The UES Killers
by DocteureCrane
Summary: Dan is a trained hitman, paid to rid the UES of rich criminals who think they are above justice. Everything runs smoothly until he realizes that Blair Waldorf, his high school nemesis, might not be a stranger to his activities after all.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello to you guys. This is my first Dair fanfiction. I own nothing of course.**

**I have loved Dair for a long time now and never brought myself to actually write fanfiction, since I have read so many good ones about this amazing couple. I thought I would never do it justice but here I am trying. So this is a **_**Mr and Mrs Smith**_** influenced fic because I do think that the sexual tension between Dan and Blair can translate to such a scenario. I hope you like it. If not, I'll just stop writing it :-P.**

Dan Humphrey looked and sounded exactly like your typical Brooklyn young man. He was no handsome Nate Archibald or cocky Chuck Bass. If it weren't for the uniforms at Constance, he would be very easy to recognize as one of the Brooklynites. Not that it was a problem for Blair Waldorf, the school's own social dictator. She had once given him a dirty look and that had been enough for Dan to know exactly what she thought of him.

It didn't matter to him. His Brooklyn aura was exactly what he needed for nobody in the whole of Constance Billard had ever suspected him of shady practices. Not even Waldorf who always liked to know everybody's business even if it dealt with trivial matters like where a particular girl got her fancy shoes. He prided himself in the fact that she had managed to make his high school life barely tolerable and yet, did not figure out his hidden activities.

Dan was a hit man. He wasn't the most accomplished one you could come across in New York but he is working his way up there. Not so long ago, the Upper East Side had been shaken by the death of Bart Bass' closest confidant, a balding man with power who has had more mistresses than money in his account. He had apparently been accused of many rapes but they had been nothing that money couldn't take care of. That had been Dan's doing. The man's wife had required the murder from the head superior, someone Dan had never met. The task had been forwarded to him through a special mobile phone which only allowed one connection.

His dating Serena Van Der Woodsen had its perks and that was probably why he had inherited of that specific case. The head superior, someone Dan liked to refer to as Fawkes, knew of everything. She knew so much that he had come to suspect that she was Gossip Girl herself. Whenever he received a message from Fawkes, she would tell him of all the details about the designated victims. Her profiling was too accurate, as if she worked for the police. It used to freak him out but he got used to it, just like everyone got used to Gossip Girl's blasts after a while.

Fawkes had known that Henry Foreman would be present at the charity fundraiser that was sort of a weekly routine to the Van Der Woodsens. She had also known that Serena would invite him and that he would accept because he was a lovesick gentleman and would never deny an opportunity to parade around at her arm. Sometimes he felt ashamed of his devotion to Serena. What he was behind the seemingly innocent Brooklyn Boy façade did not match up to his servitude towards that girl. He killed people for a living but he was helpless whenever Serena was involved. Many times, she had made him wait and endure boring champagne parties for the promise of a better date or mind-blowing sex. The sex was indeed mind-blowing but to this day, he still was unsure whether suffering through those parties had been worth it or not. He loved Serena but he couldn't help but imagine a faceless Fawkes laughing at him standing silent next to her while she conversed with half of the rich men around.

The worse was Blair Waldorf. He could probably live with being Serena's nameless escort if it weren't for that girl's incredibly frustrating glares and remarks. She'd pass him by and smile with condescendence, telling Serena that she was such a sweetheart for bringing an actual charity-case to the fundraiser. Or she would comment on how out of place he was under her breath so that Serena still remained unaware of her taunting. Most of the time, Dan ignored her. But it hurt nonetheless mainly because it was true. He had nothing to offer to these Chanel-wearing people. And they most certainly had nothing to offer to him besides a glassy smile whenever Serena introduced him.

Blair Waldorf had most certainly outdone herself the day of the fundraiser. As Fawkes had told him, Foreman would steal away to one of the hotel's rooms for a quick encounter with his latest mistress. It was at that exact moment that Dan needed to act. But of course, he could count on Waldorf to offer a most unpleasant distraction when it was most crucial to remain silent and observe the people around.

"Humphrey! What a displeasure to see you here as always when you happen to be anywhere near my sight." Blair greeted. "Fetching champagne for your lady?"

She said it as if he had been a dog bringing back a stick to his master. Dan had been hanging around the posh bar because it gave him a good view of Henry Foreman's doings. Of course, that view had then been obstructed by Blair's doll-like figure. Although Dan strongly disliked the girl with the strength of every one of his muscles, he had to admit that she was quite attractive. Nothing like Serena of course, but still, she had an allure. It was her eyes, Dan was certain. They had never expressed anything but a strong repulsion whenever they fell on him but it was that intensity that somehow made you feel almost important. Important enough to deserve being intensely stared at. It must be why Chuck Bass is still actively pursuing her.

"I would really like to chat Waldorf but I wouldn't want to keep you away from whatever _plans _you and Chuck have tonight. What is it going to be? Emotional blackmail to one of the Ivy League spokespersons?"

He wished her to leave quickly. His eyes kept glancing nervously at the agglutination of smart-dressed men among which Foreman was dwelling. Blair was no fool. She turned, trying to discover what Dan was looking at.

"What we do, Chuck and I, is none of your business." She replied with a delicate frown. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. NYU must already feel like an accomplishment of some sort to you. I tend to believe I aim higher. And if it weren't for that impotent teacher…Miss Car right? You would know Humphrey. I wouldn't need to kiss anyone's ass tonight."

"And you blame me because?"

"Do I need a reason?" Blair replied with a cocky smile.

"No indeed you don't apparently."

"I'm glad we're finally on the same page Humphrey. Now I'll relieve us both and go join Serena." Blair announced. "Oh, and not that I approve of you as her escort or as anything at all, but shouldn't you be with her instead of drinking yourself out of your obvious discomfort?"

She waited for her reply but he never gave it to her. Henry Foreman had begun to extirpate himself from the crowd, excusing himself profusely to everyone who cared to ask him where he was going. Foreman had pointed to his glass, pretending that he would be going to get a refill. He looked like a doppelganger of the late Bart Bass. The same hardness to his features was to be found. He was perhaps just a little more stout, with less hair on his head. It had always seemed funny, and perhaps more odd, that Upper East Siders always looked the same. You could never find a pudgy man, an old lady who actually prided herself in being a grandmother because there was too much of a sense of grandeur to be perceived as a commoner.

He had forgotten that Blair Waldorf had been standing arms crossed and waiting for him to tell her why he was at the bar. All he remembered was that Fawkes had stressed the importance of this task. It had to be well done. And the salary was almost thrice higher than what Dan usually obtained. He needed the money. NYU was no Ivy League but it was still expensive. His father still believed he worked at a café in a remote corner of the city. That had been Dan's excuse for his sometimes irregular schedule.

Henry Foreman, according to Fawkes, had booked a room on the seventh floor of the hotel. It was a suite of course, facing the back of the street because privacy was an important matter when it came to adultery. The building behind the hotel was an eclectic assemblage of restaurants, business offices and penthouses. It was the perfect place to commit murder. Dan immediately hurried out of the reception hall, barely worrying about acknowledging Blair. He had snaked his way out of the crowd, finally making it through the exit where he explained briefly that he had forgotten his phone in his coat. The valet only nodded, visibly not giving a single damn about who he assumed to be a rich guy's concerns. Dan could not blame him.

He had taken his coat, which looked neither too fancy nor too shabby, and quickly put it on. That way, he would attract less attention in the street. Thankfully, when he emerged from the luxurious hotel, he could see that it was a busy night. It was filled with tourists and walkers, some high street posers and shoppers. Dan easily drifted through them till the end of the street where he turned towards the adjacent one. He arrived at the building with no inconvenience. It was called _Devon Central Plaza_ and he could see that it was as busy as the streets. Dan took out a paper from his pants' pocket and read carefully:

_Go to the eighth floor, the view is more optimal from there. Do not ask anybody anything. The room number is 38. Door will be unlocked. Everything you need is already there._

_Fawkes_

_And don't forget to destroy this message when it is done._

Dan did accordingly, passing by a group of old ladies who wore expensive, heady perfumes. He hoped the scent wouldn't get to his head and prevent him from accomplishing his mission. He was scared a lot. There were cameras everywhere nowadays, and Lord knows he was aware of it. Gossip Girl had conditioned him to fear every cell phone every camera around a seemingly innocent tourist. Fawkes had assured him that her contacts in that building would take care of the camera deal. Fawkes had never failed him to this day but there was always a lingering fear in him. Carrying out these murders, however deserving the victim is still had its fair shares of risk.

He found room 38. He opened the door and it gave no resistance. Dan locked it once he was in, just in case. The place was a casual room, nothing impressive and certainly something that deserved its spot in the back of the building. The walls were painted boring beige and the bed had forest green sheets. There was a painting of a seascape representing two boats in the horizon. Everything looked completely normal but for the distinct rifle set up in front of the window. All Dan had to do was to bend down and aim for Foreman's head.

He breathed deeply. There was no time to be wasted so he bent down and put his eyes at level with the visor. There weren't many windows in the hotel he had just come from. But each one of them was big. Fawkes had told him to count one row down, and two windows to the left. She had been right, of course. Through the lens, Dan now saw Foreman and his mistress. They were both extremely busy in their lovemaking and he thanked God that they hadn't taken off their clothes yet. It did make it trickier though to avoid hurting the woman.

He felt his palms become sweaty, just like before every time he has had to make a kill. To think that he had been at a reception, feet away from that man who knew nothing about Humphreys, about Dan. It felt wrong in a sense, but he had already gotten himself too deep in this whole business. He thought of the rapes and that somehow made it easier to carry on.

The lady excused herself for a moment Dan assumed because she had left him to go somewhere else in the suite. That was his moment. Dan aimed for him head, as Henry Foreman lay panting in the large bed. He pulled the trigger of the rifle and felt it move above his shoulder. The gun had a silencer, fortunately. He saw the bullet reach its destination, creating a pool of blood around the satin white bed sheets. It looked tragic and even though Dan had seen this often, it still made his stomach turn upside down in revulsion.

But then, he noticed the presence of someone else in the room. Someone who wasn't the late Henry Foreman's mistress. It took him a few seconds to really believe who it was.

Blair Waldorf.

She was standing next to the bed in shock, holding something in her hand. He thought it was a gun and yet he couldn't be sure. But then, she quickly made for the window, scanning the building where Dan was. He swiftly bent down, taking the rifle with him. His heart was racing in panic while millions of questions kept swirling through his head.

_What was she doing there? Why was she holding a gun? Was it even a gun? Where was the mistress? In the bathrooms? _

Dan, after a minute of laying down on the wooden floor in utter shock, slowly raised his head just enough for his eyes to see. Waldorf was no more there. Instead, it was the woman who had left temporarily. He saw her desperately pace around the bed, apparently screaming and sobbing convulsively. He was genuinely sorry that she had to see that.

There had been no time to linger and Dan quickly disassembled the rifle and put it in a black canvas bag. He went out of the room with it and then dropped it in the garbage deposit room, where Fawkes had told him it would be taken care of. The whole time, his mind was still focused on Blair Waldorf's presence in the suite. She had also witnessed something quite horrible, although at times he even wondered whether she had a heart at all.

But no matter, he had to be back at the party first before he could worry about anything else. The valet let him in with as much indifference as when he had let him out. Dan made his entry, quickly spotting Serena. He needed to look as if he had always been around so he linked arms with his belle.

"Where have you been?" Serena asked him with a delighted smile. "I have been talking to the most interesting people. And by interesting, I really mean boring."

Dan wanted to tell her that she had been the one to ditch him for conversation with the high class moguls. But instead, he thought he should play it safe and sweet.

"I was at the bar, figuring out the best way to interrupt a conversation politely. But then, I thought the arm link should get your attention more effectively."

Serena giggled a little before laying a kiss on his lips. He hated that he had to fool her but he knew she'd never understand.

"Oh, were you really?" Dan heard someone say.

It was Blair Waldorf of course, facing him with the same disdainful frown that she had always graced him with. He felt himself panic because there was more than just the usual dislike in her eyes. He detected suspicion and that somehow, made him swallow in nervousness. He shouldn't have left like he had. He had indeed looked suspicious and nobody leaves Blair Waldorf waiting for an answer.HeH

**Let me know if this intrigues you or not!**


	2. Chapter 2: Fawkes

**Hey there. So I think I have received enough encouragement from the number of subscriptions to this story. I feel empowered enough to give it a go so here is a second chapter. It will deal more with the backstory of Dan and Fawkes and how he came to be who he is. Also, I know it seems ambiguous as to why Fawkes needs him if she seems so powerful (thanks to the reviewer who pointed it out). But you will know why in this chapter (she's not really that powerful). We will also get a Blair point of view soon because this story is about the both of them of course. As you have noticed, this more or less starts towards the middle/end of season 2. I try to include events which have happened in the show because I find it more interesting.**

To this day, Dan still had no idea why_ he _had been the one approached for the job. You would have thought someone like Chuck Bass would have been the perfect candidate. He was filthy rich and eternally bored with school and life. What could compare to the thrill of killing and threatening some cocky Upper East Siders? After all, Chuck did like to ruin pretty much everyone's lives once in a while. Dan still remembered his figure looming over Jenny, touching her everywhere while his sister struggled to keep him off. Sometimes, he hoped Fawkes would give him a job concerning Chuck Bass because that would leave him no choice to do it. By himself, Dan could never find enough ruthlessness to make him pay.

It had been one of those bad days at school, almost two years ago. Serena had only been a vision to him while the Waldorfs, Basses and Archibalds were his reality. At that time, none of them had really paid any sort of attention to him, which had been just fine. Blair had apparently not remembered their little encounter when he had saved a drunken Serena from being hit by a car. She had thought that he smelled like pork and cheese but her memory was probably not an olfactory one because he had crossed her path at school many times without her giving him so much as a single glance towards his direction. He had hated himself for remembering her so well, for hoping that she would acknowledge him. Blair Waldorf, Serena's friend. How glorious it would have been to receive a look, to feel like he somehow mattered to that friend of Serena Van Der Woodsen. He never received that look.

It had been a Tuesday. He had just come out of his English class, ready to dive into the library for a round of well-deserved reading. Dan really had no friends at Constance except the books in its library. He had been tranquilly marching towards it, minding his own business as usual when Blair Waldorf suddenly called out to him.

"Hey you!"

Dan had felt himself hopeful for a moment. Could it be that she finally remembered him? He had started imagining the both of them speaking of Serena and why she wasn't there.

"Me?" He had replied, pointing towards himself.

He could suddenly see that she did not remember him. Her smile had been malicious, like a kitten's before it catches mice. She had worn her uniform in that preppy rich girl way of hers. The usual headband circled her chocolate hair which fell in delicate wavy curls. It had been a dark, ochre color with a sideway bow.

Her minions were around, the same smiles on their faces. He didn't know what to make of the situation.

"We are conducting a survey, for our research method class you see?" Blair Waldorf said sweetly. "Would you by any chance have five minutes to spare for us?"

He must have mumbled something that resembled an affirmative because she immediately sprang forward to his side. In no time, he was surrounded by a horde of rich expensive-smelling bitches. There had been no papers in their hands nor copybooks or pen to jot down his answers. He immediately grew suspicious.

"First question: Are you a virgin?" Waldorf inquired, keeping her eyes disinterested.

Dan felt his cheeks redden. The girls giggled uncontrollably, confirming right away that this was no scholarly survey. He saw the one that he would later come to know as Penelope eye him with a close to diabolical smirk.

"I got to go, ahem, I have some studying−"

Dan had tried slipping through them but failed miserably when no one else than the Waldorf herself grabbed his arm and pushed him back. He had never been handled that way before. He knew he hated her at that moment, hated how she looked so innocent with her doe eyes while she had the strength and cruelty of a bear inside that delicate body of hers.

"We're not done with you!" She exclaimed enthusiastically. "You failed to answer the first question but you owe us answers nonetheless. What does a virgin boy like you do on the week-ends?" She took a quick look at the copy of _Tess of the d'Ubervilles _that he was holding and seemed slightly intrigued for a second. Then, her face quickly resumed an expression of boundless amusement. "I see you read 19th century controversial novels. Steamy!"

He was shocked to see that she somehow knew about the novel.

"And where are you from anyways? Not the city, because I would remember seeing such a forgettable face."

They all laughed at the oxymoron. Everyone except Dan of course.

It had been easy to conclude what that had been. It had been Blair Waldorf, Blair Waldorf-ing. That had been her daily spectacle, a way of showing her Queen Bness to all those who cared (which was almost all of Constance) for a show of humiliation and embarrassment. He could see Blair was enjoying the attention from the others and Chuck Bass who had appeared out of nowhere to smirk upon the whole scene.

Dan had felt his throat heavy with discomfort and had it not been for Blair's then boyfriend, Nate Archibald, he knew that he would never have escaped the situation. The minute Blair saw Nate appearing at the end of the corridor, she dropped her malicious act and skipped towards him in a girlish manner. Penelope and the others also turned their backs on him and plastered sweet smiles on their faces.

He had left quickly, mentally thanking Archibald for having the good sense to show up to school today. As he walked towards the library, his limbs slightly trembling from the memory of the recent encounter, he began to curse at himself. Dan knew too much about these kids. He knew who Blair was, who Chuck Bass was, who Nate Archibald was… And they knew nothing of him, nor did they care about him. It was enough to make him despise himself.

Perhaps that event had been the catalyst in the process of accepting the offer of someone he did not know at all. That afternoon, as he was walking towards the loft, he was accosted by someone in the streets.

"Do you have a minute?"

The person was wearing sunglasses even though the weather was very grey. It was a young man, from what Dan could judge. He definitely did not look like he was from Brooklyn. He wore an expensive-looking blazer with a pair of jeans.

"What for?" Dan replied.

The truth was that he had done his homework and was in no hurry to get home to his cheerful father and his moody sister. His father would ask him how his day had been and he would have to lie again, something he wasn't becoming good at for some reason.

"You go to Constance right?"

"Yes. How did you know?" Dan asked.

"I would say that it has a lot to do with the uniform that you're wearing but I actually knew beforehand. You're Daniel Humphrey. I used to go to Constance too when you first started. I graduated not so long ago."

Dan only grew more suspicious.

"I don't understand…Why are you here? And why do you remember me?"

"Frankly, I don't remember you. But I work for someone who might need your help. Actually, that someone wants your help."

"I'm not interested." Dan replied curtly.

"Oh, but you will be, if you hear it out. I don't particularly care for your best interest but I was told to insist, so I'm here insisting. Take this."

The guy presented him with a piece of paper that was folded in four.

"It only has numbers. The first one is the starting salary. The second one is the phone number, in case you change your mind."

With that, the young man left.

Dan still didn't know why he had kept the paper instead of throwing it away. Clearly, the guy had looked every bit shady. He had gone home, successfully adverting his father's "talk-around-a-plate-of-waffles" routine and Jenny's remarks about the incident, which she had heard of in the girls' bathrooms because apparently, Constance's females had nothing better to do. He was still fulminating in his bedroom, trying to find ways in which he could make Blair Waldorf pay.

Of course he had found none. She was untouchable, la Waldorf. A sad fact of his life, indeed.

He had kept playing with the paper, lost in his thoughts, when of course it had to occur to him that the paper was indeed in his hands. Dan had been curious, as anyone else would have been. He unfolded it.

_3000, _was the first number.

He blinked, unsure of what he had seen but the number was indeed true.

It had indeed been a hard day for Dan and after letting his frustrations simmer, he was ready to try something. Three thousand dollars might not be something of significance to most students in his school, but it was to him. He had no idea what that number entailed, whether it meant a monthly salary or a onetime thing. Yet he knew it would help. He had aspired to go to a great university and that generous sum could somehow ease his financial troubles. He could care less for fancy clothes or cars, watches…That wasn't his vice. There was something nonetheless exciting about owning that kind of amount. It made you feel secure, strong. Dan needed that sort of reassurance. Plus, he promised himself that if he didn't feel comfortable about the job, he would not do it.

He took out his mobile phone and composed the number, mentally cursing at himself for having sweaty palms and an irregular heartbeat. He thought he was reacting the way he would if he ever had the opportunity to call Serena Van Der Woodsen one day.

"Yes." A different voice this time.

"Um, I was given a paper. That is a paper with your or this number. Yes, this number. Okay." He breathed deeply because he felt the rambling coming. "It's about a job of some sorts I think?"

The voice was feminine but it had a deep intonation, the kind that made it resonate inside your head.

"I was not sure you would contact me at all, Mr. Humphrey but I am glad you did."

He was short of an answer so he vaguely answered by a _thank_s before realizing that he had no idea what he was thanking her for.

"The nature of the job cannot be discussed over the phone. It's quite intricate. Please, name a meeting spot that you find discrete enough for the two of us to discuss."

Dan was sweating. What did he get himself into? This was definitely too shady, from the woman's voice to the fact that she knew his name. Yet, he couldn't back down. He was intrigued for one. But most importantly, it seemed he was already too involved (although as he thought about it in the present, he could have simply refused politely) in whatever scheme that was. He was a little afraid to disappoint a person who had such a voice.

"Constance's library." He blurted, thinking of the first place where he was truly left alone.

"Not so bad of a choice. Where in the library pray?"

"The study corners. There is never anybody there."

It was true. Constance students for the most part adopted the same mentality about school: if their parents paid a lot, there was no reason to burden themselves with reading and solving. He rarely found anybody, apart from one or two commoners like him who had found their way to Constance.

"I know where those are. Friday after the bell. This would guarantee us privacy."

Not one Upper East Sider would waste one second more than necessary at school on a Friday.

"Sure. Umm, how will I recognize you?"

"You won't. I will. Do not bother calling again on this number, it will be annulled. See you Friday."

The line closed and Dan was left fretting over what he had gotten himself into.

Friday had come too soon and Dan stepped inside Constance's library with a feeling of dread. The librarian smiled at him like she always did, recognizing him as one of the few students who bothered coming. The library was huge with balconies on the side where the individual study tables were to be found. He climbed the stairs and made his way towards the study corner. The lights were dimmer but each individual table had its own little lamp fixed on the bordering shade they had. Dan saw no one and so he sat on the farthest seat from the balcony. He took out his copy of _The Great Gatsby _in order to look like he was doing something just in case an eventual passerby decided to show up. He knew he would find no one and the librarian could not see him from where she was. He waited, watching the students leave from the window that gave a view of the main corridor. He could see the top of Blair Waldorf's pretty head as she made her way to the outside accompanied by her flock of minions.

"Daniel Humphrey I believe." He heard that deep-set voice and almost jumped from fear.

The voice originated from the cubicle in front of his. He could see a black felt hat adorned with golden trimming standing on top of a head whose face was obstructed by the wall of his own cubicle. He moved to stand in order to salute the woman more properly but she raised a gloved hand in a sign that he should remain seated.

"It is my wish to remain in privacy. I have no name to give you and for that, I am sorry. You will know it eventually if you accept my job offer. In the case that you don't, I will enjoy the pleasure of remaining unknown."

"Of…of course! Yes." Dan agreed. "I'm not very assured of the legal aspect of whatever you are going to offer me but−"

He lowered his voice to match her own whispers.

"It's simple. You kill people for money."

Dan almost choked on his own words. He remained speechless for a few seconds before deciding to stand up and leave.

The woman wore a beige trench coat, most likely a Burberry. She bent her head down in order to hide her face. It would have been hard to detect anything anyways. Half of it was covered in sunglasses so huge they would almost need windshield wipers to keep them clean.

"Stay where you are." She ordered and to his surprise, he actually did.

"There are no innocents involved here, only the deserving. Our clients have pure motives; unfinished business with scum that escapes the bars through their checkbooks. Sometimes, it is not even for a death they ask for; theft of incriminating documents is one. You would be starting with that if your heart is too soft for murder. And you can leave it to that if that is all you _can _do."

"This is crazy…" He whispered to himself.

"Crazy? Yes. But it is safe too. I own the agency and I know all my workers. _All of them. _I am frail of health, very frail. But my mind is sharp. We have not been caught, ever. I make it my business to be aware of my surroundings, of my contacts and of my workers. People come to _us _because they know we are the best."

"Why do you need me then? I am nothing but a half-geek trying to survive my way through school. I have never handled a gun and the closest I got to something dangerous was my father's chopping knife. You probably got the wrong person."

She chuckled, crossing one of legs.

"No, I have the exact person I was looking for. You see, I need someone to handle the Constance division. I need someone to be close to these spoiled brats, someone who can infiltrate their parties, their homes without looking too suspicious. Nobody seems to notice you here."

"What do you have against these kids? Surely, you don't mean to kill them? None of them are murderers. Sure, they suck but that's not a reason."

He imagined Chuck Bass being assassinated. Wouldn't that upset the whole of the UES!

"Silly," The woman said in between another chuckle. "It's not the kids we are up against; it's their parents and relatives and all the adults they know. Those are the people my clients are interested in and you can help greatly."

"I am a nobody. You should have asked an Archibald or a Bass for this. They would be more suited to the task."

"Not likely. These people are loyal to each other. They have secrets of their own. Vermin likes to father vermin. I am sure you have noticed the exploits of Gossip Girl in uncovering the superficial layer of lies and deceits they live with. Trust me, that is only a tenth of what lies behind. No, it is a guy like you that we need."

Back then, he had no idea who or what Gossip Girl was. He had heard Jenny talk about it with her friends, sometimes mentioning it to him in a sentence where he would merely nod, pretending to understand. He had made a mental note of checking it out that night.

He thought of Blair Waldorf ridiculing him and Chuck Bass' abuse of nearly every girl he met in the corridors. Were their parents good people for producing such insufferable offspring?

"I will think about it." Dan said, more to be able to walk away than anything else.

"In three days, I shall call you at five in the afternoon. Answer your phone for it will only ring once."

That night, he found himself on the Gossip Girl website reading about the person he had been thinking about for months. Serena Van Der Woodsen had been spotted in Grand Central Station. His heart jumped at the news, suddenly trying to figure out ways in which he could meet her, see her. That blogger, Gossip Girl, seemed to believe she would be back at Constance in no time through information obtained from someone who had overheard a conversation between her and the school's principal. News travelled fast and Dan Humphrey had no idea on how this Gossip Girl thing worked but he was glad anyways.

So suddenly, the job offer did not seem so repulsive anymore. If he had the money, he would look like a more viable option to Serena that is if she even notices his presence. He could limit himself to stealing information, staying a good distance away from murder missions a la Mission Impossible and working on the condition that he'd have nothing to do with the Van der Woodsens. He could ask that weird woman to grant him that condition.

That is what Dan Humphrey did. Of course, with time, he obtained a sense of power from these little assignments. So much that he had wanted more and he became insatiable. Fawkes had given him a free training session with rifles and white weapons, just to give him a taste. He had liked it but it had taken a particularly humiliating encounter with Chuck Bass to make up his mind. The anger and embarrassment would only be washed away with the thrill of a kill and once he had tried it, Dan could simply not stop. Whatever happened at school, he could take it for he had the knowledge that he did things that most of them could never do. A year and a half later, Dan was the accomplished hit man.

**Present Day**

Dan walked over to Fawkes' office where she sat back facing him as usual. He now seldom wondered at her appearance, having finally accepted that that was who she was: Fawkes the faceless. He was distressed and no amount of reading or aimless writing in his notebook could calm him.

"Good job. I would have congratulated you earlier but there was no time."

Her tone was smooth, deep but smooth. She sounded very satisfied.

"We have a problem." He stated.

"A problem? Please, do tell."

He sat on the weirdly-shaped red chair in front of the desk that turned out to be quite comfortable. Fawkes' office was in a building among the many of Manhattan. It was luxurious but it hid behind the skirts of an advertising company. The company was real, but it most certainly worked as a cover for Fawkes' other business.

"I saw Blair Waldorf in Foreman's suite just after I killed him. I think she had a gun in her hand. I have no idea what she was doing there or what exactly was in her hand but she knew where the shot came from. She immediately looked towards where I was hiding. May be she is one like me. May be she was sent to protect Foreman! I am quite freaking out here Fawkes! She seemed suspicious when I made it back…"

"She knows nothing. You need to relax. The day we are figured out by a spoiled Upper East Side brat is the day this agency sinks. Act normal that is all you need to do. I will give you a break on the assignments so that you can protect your cover. Breathe cobra. She probably hoped to speak to him of Columbia. You told me she was desperately trying to get into an Ivy League right?"

Dan nodded and although Fawkes couldn't see him, he knew she understood. He had spoken so often of Blair Waldorf to her that it surprised him to see how knowledgeable Fawkes was on the topic. He hoped she was right. No, he _knew _she was right. Fawkes was always right.

**I am sorry it took time to update. I really do hope you have not lost interest in this. I am back in the game for this fic. SO next chapter, we will get our Blair point of view and her own story. I hope you are interested and leave reviews if you are feeling generous. I am on Tumblr too, so follow me (and I follow back!).**


	3. Chapter 3: Cercle 19

**Thank you so much for all the subscriptions, comments and follows I have received on tumblr. I love you all and I hope this story doesn't disappoint. **

**The finale was a wreck in every sense of the word. I promise you that Dan and Blair, in my fic, are the endgame.**

**So I hope this chapter pleases you. Review if it pleases you!**

Blair had failed. Foreman had hired her to protect him and she had failed.

The man was an idiot. Someone who knows he is being targeted should not entertain the thought of private meetings with his mistress du jour in the back of a hotel. Once she saw the pool of blood, she immediately looked out of the window. This was the work of a skilled artist. The bullet had entered the glass, leaving only a small hole and a delicate crack. One shot had been enough.

She heard a noise from the bathrooms of the suite and swiftly left the place, her heart racing. The person who had done this must probably have contacts among the people in the reception. How else could he or she know where Foreman was and where he would go? When she got back to the reception hall, her eyes scanned the crowd in search of a suspicious face. People were half drunk by then and conversations were punctuated by giggles and candid laughs. She remained composed of course, putting up a straight face. Blair Waldorf knew what was expected of her.

She spotted Chuck Bass lingering in one of the corners, champagne glass in hand and a passable-looking young lady around his arm.

_It could be that Basstard… Always the shady-looking man…_

Nate was at the other side of the large room, the brightly-lit one looking handsome and eyeing Serena once in a while when he thought nobody was watching. A mass of girls gravitated around him. Her eye then fell on Dan Humphrey who had re-entered the party. Not one girl gave him a look having no name for himself nor the gift of mind-blowing looks. In fact, Blair was certain she was the only one watching his movements. Where did he go?

For a second, she remembered the way he had looked distracted when she had talked to him earlier. Then he left her without an answer, which was quite rude and most probably an evidence of his Brooklyn heritage. Blair had discarded it as nonsense, knowing better than to concern herself with anything involving a Humphrey. He had slithered his way towards Serena, addressing her a smile so sweet Blair almost wanted to puke. Why was Lonely Boy so determined to be nice and gentlemanly!

She thought for a second; he had indeed left around the time she lost sight of Foreman. And he had taken quite long to come back from wherever he went…

Blair didn't want to suspect him. She knew Humphrey. Well, she didn't really _know _him but through Serena's litanies on how and why he was the perfect boyfriend, Blair had a pretty good idea on his character. He was the typical hipster filled with feelings, unable to find a large enough outlet in his quasi-pathetic writing. When Serena had presented them, she had wrinkled her nose. Her friend could and probably did much better (Nate was a proof of it) than judgmental Danny Boy.

If Blair had to be honest with herself, something that occurred rarely, she would admit that Humphrey was not as unlikeable as she painted him. He had been nice to her once; in a corridor after she had realized that her mother had once more favored Serena over her just like the rest of the world always did. He had sat down with her although she had given him every reason to hate her. Thinking about that moment made Blair feel guilty and so, she kept it far away from her mind. He had tried to help her with Chuck, in the best way that he could. Dan Humphrey was no bad person. He just happened to be from the wrong side of town and to sport lumberjack shirts like that's all he had dwelling in his modest closet.

No, Dan Humphrey couldn't be…Unless he was?

He was speaking to Serena as she made her way to them.

_He is the perfect candidate. Nobody had looked at him. I wouldn't even have myself if it weren't for the fact that my client was just killed._

He was obviously surprised to hear her question. Blair kept her face straight, challenging him only with a movement of her eyebrows.

"Yes," He stammered. "I _was _at the bar. Then I had to take a call so I went outside. It's too noisy here."

_I call bullshit right here. _

"Who would want to call you Humphrey? Cedric?" Blair insisted.

He ignored her question, deciding to kiss Serena out of even beginning to think there was something wrong in his alibi. Blair almost fulminated.

She walked away from the lovebirds, snorting her disapproval.

"Where have you been Waldorf?"

Chuck Bass, of course.

"Avoiding you as usual." She replied with a smirk but inside, she felt a distinct brew of anger and arousal. Chuck Bass had always made her feel so conflicted. "Where is your escort?"

"Gone to refresh herself." He whispered. "Why? Wish you had been the one?"

"Not a chance. I would sooner adopt Jenny Humphrey than have the dishonor to accompany you _anywhere._"

"That's not the song you sang to me last summer."

"I hit a false note. Look, what do you want Chuck? What _do you want_?" Blair asked, losing her patience.

She had been devastated by the news of having to give up on Yale and any university that had ever mattered to her Upper East Side heart. She had started the year afresh, with Marcus at her arm and a strong devotion to get over the whole Chuck-Bass-standing-her-out fiasco through hard work at school. She had wanted this as a trophy, to show him that she didn't need _him _nor his presents or his raspy voice in her ears. She had planned to get into Yale, meet a fellow student who shared a passion for French literature (or literature of any kind) and who had ambition above running some company his father had left him. They would graduate together; pursue their careers as the power couple that they are. He would have no baggage, no daddy issues for which she would have to pay and no vice for toying with other people's hearts. That had been her plan. Then of course, it had been snatched away from her and it was all Blair could do to keep up her pretences because inside, she was broken.

"You know what I want Blair. You." He answered. "Preferably in a little less conservative attire, but I'll take what I can get."

He gave her a seductive smirk for which she almost fell. In that shady corner, she could go for it. What would stop her? After all, her plan had failed. NYU was a certainty. She had begged some people today and none of them had cared to give ear to her pleas. The looks she had obtained were mixtures of pity and spite. They had addressed her smiles of some sort but quickly waved her off, explaining that there was nothing they could do, that her record was too tainted for a University of their league. She could give in right now. Her pride and dignity had sunk with her dream for Yale, Marcus had cheated on her with his cougar of a stepmother, Serena was likely to live the life _she _had wanted for herself…

Blair let him brush her bare shoulder with his hand.

"Are we doing this?" Blair whispered as he got closer. She had asked the question but remained clueless as to what she wanted his answer to be. Her body wanted this. Her mind had already given up her integrity a long time ago when she decided to go a begging to those Ivy League spokespeople.

His breath smelled of champagne. It just seemed to fit him and his white suit. He was the only one wearing a white suit.

_Chuck Bass…You're about to kiss Chuck Bass. _

Blair wanted to move away, she truly did. But then his mouth grazed her ear like a cat's whiskers, and she realized that she could just give in and feel some sort of pleasure. She had failed her own dream and at protecting Foreman, so why not?

Then of course, the police barged in. Blair turned her head towards the exit where a pack of security guards marched in. A man urged everyone to stop their conversations. The murder was announced, causing a lot of uproar. Blair felt sick in the stomach. This was _her _fault. She looked at Chuck who seemed truly shocked. Henry Foreman had been a close friend of Bart Bass and Chuck could only be reminded of his own father's death.

Some women and girls were crying. One man said that this was "ridiculous" and that he would never rent a room in this hotel again. They were asked to leave the place, and Blair hesitated before rushing towards the exit, giving one last look towards Chuck before joining the crowd of distressed women that had formed next to the entrance.

When Blair thought about that almost-kiss, she was glad it didn't happen. On the morrow, she had Dorota bring her every paper that had reported Foreman's murder, from the Gazette to the New York Times, including the gossip magazines that found it fitting to announce it. They had no idea who had committed the murder. Her spirits had been unwell the previous night, trying to shoo away the thought of being linked to the murder. She wanted to see photographs from cameras, to know who could have done it. She had slept on the thought that it could not have been Dan Humphrey. The guy was a softie at heart, a romantic. He could never commit cold-blooded murder and she had laughed in front of her pretty mirror at the fact that the possibility even crossed her mind.

But she was glad that Chuck hadn't taken that kiss from her. After all, it was all because of him that she had decided to get herself into this strange profession. She was now as trained a killer as she was a fashionista. It had been at the end of their school year, after having been stood up by Chuck.

He had truly given a hard, ruthless blow to her already uncertain self-esteem. Blair had shed some tears, eaten a fair share of macaroons and cursed quite extensively both in French and English. Her trip to Europe without the Bassman had gone as it should have been and she had met the perfect rebound: Marcus. In him, she saw everything that Chuck Bass wasn't: politeness, manners, a genuine smile. He was tall and built with blond hair, in sum, a gentleman. The British accent had also had its fair share of importance. Of course, he turned out to be a despicable ass too but he had served his purpose well enough. Chuck had gone fuming with jealousy.

It had occurred a few days after the white party. Dorota had given her a letter, saying that it had come in the mail for her. It was one of those formal sorts of letters, like the ones you receive when you are invited to a gala. The paper was a light yellow and the font was cursive, printed in dark ink. There was no address of issue, nor was there a name. Blair tore the envelope as delicately as she could because she had never believed in massacring letters. The message read as follows:

_This is to kindly invite you to Cercle 19, a society that will only be glad to have you as one of its members. Please be informed that this invitation is exclusive. Should you find yourself not in desire to join our circle, you will not be asked again. Cercle 19 will hold its interviews in two days. Be present at the Venue hotel, near Sotheby's if we have piqued your interest. Bring the red key with you. Do not bring anyone else. _

_Once again, we remind you that this is an exclusive offer. Cercle 19 does not ask twice, nor does it ask many people to join it. We would be glad to have you consider this as a serious opportunity._

Blair had gasped in surprise. She had heard of many famous and infamous secret societies in her life. The Upper East Side breathed these stories. There was not one kid who did not wonder at his parents' presumable membership to one of them. Blair had always thought Bart Bass to be involved in one and Foreman had most probably been too. These societies were open to those who were successful and Blair had always wanted to receive the honor. Now that she had the letter, she could hardly believe it.

"Dorota!" she had called. "DOROTA!" she tried a second time after having found no answer.

Her maid had come rushing as fast as she could on her stout legs.

"Yes Miss Blair. Something wrong with mail today? Is it Mr. Chuck picture with Russian model?"

Blair had no idea what she was talking about.

"What pictures?" Blair inquired.

She had seen Dorota's eyes shift nervously before she replied that it was nothing, and that she had probably imagined them while drinking vodka last night. Lucky for the both of them, Blair had more important matters to discuss.

"Who brought this?

"It was in mail. I get mail from mailbox in hobby. What is it?"

Dorota came closer and Blair did not even hesitate to show her. Dorota was her closest friend. She was loyal to the bone, even though Blair often liked to scream once too often.

"Secret society invitation?" Dorota exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. "Miss Blair, you should not trust this. Russian mafia tried to do that to my father and he almost lost fingers. They said they needed him but it was his liver and heart they looked for. Don't…"

Blair had already decided to check it out. She slid the red key out of the envelope and safely tucked it in the pocket of her Lacroix wallet.

"Oh please Dorota, spare me the mob drama. The less I know about it, the better. We're on the Upper East Side, not the Transsiberian. This was exactly what I needed to get over Chuck! Don't you see? I always knew I was meant to do great things. Serena has Dan and all the men she wants, but I can have this, I _deserve _this. I'm the hard worker, the ambitious one. They must have seen it! Now shoo! Let me research this society."

"If secret society, you will not find anything because it's secret." Dorota pointedly remarked to her.

"Secrets can leak out! Ask Gossip Girl, she knows all about it!" Blair almost yelled in exasperation.

Dorota had walked away, mumbling in Russian and sending wary looks towards Blair.

She had never heard of Cercle 19, even though Blair had made it her business to know her elite societies by heart. On the internet, there was nothing she could find on the subject. Dorota had been right but she wouldn't tell her.

Blair was only more intrigued and she waited impatiently for the next Thursday.

**Alrighty girl, so next chapter will be her actual introduction to the society. I wanted to show specifically in this chapter how Chuck and Blair are faring. I always feel like Blair only wanted him because she never had anything else to make her feel good in her life. You can notice that she quickly dismisses Dan as being a suspect whereas Dan was totally convinced that Blair could be a killer (he still views her as the mean Queen B) which I found quite funny. I had to include it. So I hope you have liked this chapter. I will have much more Dan/Blair interactions in the next one, do not worry. In no way is this story a Chair one, trust me!**

**Suggestions, reviews, comments are ALL welcome. They keep me going!**


	4. Chapter 4: Pretenses

**I am trying to ignore the fact that our precious Dair tag is being invaded by nonsensical posts about the epicness of Chair. But in a sense, it propels me to continue writing this fic and hopefully, will enable me to write a lot more!**

**I do not lose faith in our ship. Sure, it's been destroyed in every aspect but it is not over. **

**Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. Please review if you can **

Blair had showed up at the Venue hotel dressed in a black Prada trench coat and her usual pair of Jimmy Choos. She had also framed herself with the largest pair of sunglasses she could find and carried only her Lacroix wallet with her. Before leaving the penthouse, she had repeatedly told Dorota to abstain from following her despite her maid's incessant protests about the dangerousness of such a situation. Blair did not care. Nothing would prevent her from being introduced to the world of secret societies.

She had shown up at the lobby which revealed itself to be strangely empty. Blair had expected to see some recruits hanging around looking discreet, but no one except the hotel staff could be seen. The place looked luxurious with beige suede couches set next to glass tables that shone like crystal. Blair moved towards one of the seats, checking her watch nervously, afraid that this had been a bad joke and that she'd have to go back home with the feeling of having once more been used like a dirty cloth.

One of the staff came to her. It was a young lady, clad in the red uniform of the Venue. She looked prim and proper, and smiled profusely. A little bit too much for Blair but she was in no position to be grumpy.

"Are you looking to book a room Miss?" The girl asked her.

"No I'm not. I think not. I mean, I have a key." Blair fumbled among the different compartments of her Lacroix wallet, panicking a little at the idea that she might have lost it. "Here it is!"

The girl's smile never faltered but her eyes suddenly regarded her with understanding.

"Then you should follow me."

She took her to the elevator in which some Mozart was playing. Blair wanted to speak but she had no idea if it would be proper. Usually Blair Waldorf was a hard one to shut down but the whole secrecy of the affair had filled her with a respectful reverence. Silence was usually preferred in such situations.

"This way"

They had reached the tenth floor. It was quiet in the corridor. And dark, very dark. The wallpaper displayed a distinct Victorian pattern in burgundy tones. The carpet was so soft, her heels almost made no noise. There were doors with numbers but they seemed like vacant rooms. They reached the end of the long corridor and found themselves in front of a double-door.

"You will need this." The girl said.

She produced a weird mask out of God-knows-where and handed it to Blair. It was half-white and half-red and it covered the whole face. Blair was only more puzzled.

"Am I supposed to wear _this _on my face? Isn't that a tad bit too dramatic?"

She received no reply. Blair's red key was duly taken from her hand and inserted inside the keyhole. The doors opened and the girl left her with a bow of the head.

Blair walked in the room which was quite large. It seemed to be a conference space with a big, oval-shaped table at its center. The lights were dim and she could distinguish silhouettes sitting around.

"Please put your mask on." A voice instructed her.

It was a man's voice that was cold as stone. She felt that voice traverse her spine.

Blair immediately obeyed, half from fear of disobeying the man, half from the need to protect her identity from these unknown people.

She could see they all wore masks, the same ones. There were more men than women. Everyone was dressed sharp and Blair was glad about it because she had not disappointed. She had no idea who had spoken, nor could she determine it from their body language. They all sat still like statues.

"Perfect. Now will you join us? Your seat has been awaiting you. Cercle 19 would be nothing without its nineteenth member."

Blair sat on the stiff chair. You had to be paying attention in those chairs. She finally found out who was the speaker as he had gestured her towards her seat. He stood tall and lean while everyone remained sitting. He seemed older and oddly familiar. All the men in Blair's life had looked and sounded like him. Except her father. But then her father hadn't been much in her life either.

"You are all members of the new circle. Every ten years, Cercle 19 updates itself. The old members and veterans are still active but it is _you_ who will carry out most of the actions of our society. You came here because you were what? Curious, intrigued, perhaps flattered? And what did you expect Cercle 19 to be?"

It took a few seconds before Blair realized he was actually asking a question. Some fellow with a dark purple suit answered and Blair almost thought it was Chuck.

"A society that will help us better ourselves in terms of knowledge and contacts. Are we going to be trained to become the next elite?"

The tall man laughed but it sounded even colder than his usual tone. Blair hadn't thought that possible.

"That is a rather cliché view of these sort of organizations. But you are partly right. You will gain knowledge and contacts, be assured of it. But that is not the main purpose of Cercle 19."

Someone approached him, a person who had been standing in the back of the room. It looked like some sort of fancy-dressed bodyguard.

"Bring her in." The cold-toned man replied.

The doors opened once more, this time revealing two staff members holding a stout woman who sported a black trench coat, large sunglasses and a heavy scarf around her head.

"Leave me alone! I have uncle in Russia who can show you what violence really means young ladies…"

"We found her roaming around the floor. Since nobody else was scheduled to access it, we figured out she must have followed the last member."

Blair wanted nothing else than to run away. She had no idea about the consequences of breaking the rules among these people and frankly didn't want to know at all.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota exclaimed, running towards her.

It hadn't been hard for Dorota to recognize her mistress. In fact, they had practically worn the same outfit which was evidence enough of the many espionage missions Blair had had to share with her maid.

"_Dorota, are you trying to ruin my life?_" Blair whispered angrily. "What are you doing here?"

"They make you wear masks. This is fishy. Bad sign, bad sign! Please, don't stay here. They want organs or worse. _Prostitution_."

Dorota had tried to whisper the last word but it sounded just as loud as everything else she had said. Two or three people chuckled. Blair stood up.

"Please excuse my maid. She is just concerned over my safety and has pure motives. I had no idea she was following me, you have to believe me."

"We believe you. Yet, I am not sure if you are still eligible to be in Cercle 19. You have brought, unknowingly, a twentieth member. There can be no twentieth member."

"She won't speak of it. If she knows what is good for her. She values her job, don't you Dorota?"

Blair kicked her leg under the table.

"Yes. My job is my life, I swear."

The man consulted with two other people who sat at his sides. After a few seconds, his answer was ready.

"Although I would rather not mention anyone's family name, we recognize the value of your presence in our agency. I cannot however, break the rules. Cercle 19's tradition is that of the nineteen members. Therefore, I find myself obliged to send someone home."

He pointed at a guy who wore a royal blue shirt with a silver tie. He protested, calling it unfair.

"I know it is. But the said member is too valuable and you are only half relevant. I may recommend you to another organization if you stop your protests right now. I dislike whiny people. Do not think of exposing us. Trust me, it will backfire."

Blair felt herself shiver. Dorota was the only one with no mask and she could read the fear in her face.

When the man had left, the speech was resumed. Dorota was given the guy's mask. She made faces while putting it on.

"Our motto is secrecy. We carry out different missions, activities that require discretion. Sometimes we protect, other times we uncover. At times, we steal. We lie, we infiltrate. We even kill. The people who require our services are not to be questioned but they are the people you will become. They are the same people you live with, with secrets that you may find one day, worth protecting. Push your ideals aside; Cercle 19 wants none of that. You want to be the Elite? You have to work for the Elite. You have to serve the Elite."

Blair's heart was a mess of trepidations but there was something about the way the man spoke that made her thrilled. He was grand and powerful and so she would be. The people around her were shifting nervously but she knew she wanted this.

"There is no going back folks. The weak-hearted can choose what his tasks will consist of and we will appoint you to the right mentor. For now, you are wearing masks. But in later meetings, when your trust and discretion has been tried and proven solid, you will all know each other. You will meet your mentors during the next meeting. For now, your first task is to dig. Dig into your past and try to understand hy _you _were the one chosen for Cercle 19."

"Except you, Dorota. You will try to formulate a reason why I shouldn't kick you out of the circle."

They had gone back home under a cacophony of protests from Dorota. She was reminding her all the way in the cab of why it was bad, paying no attention to Blair's pleas that she should be a little less loud about it. But in the end, Blair told her that there was nothing Dorota could do about it.

"So will you rather be in this with me or not?" Blair had asked to close the topic.

"I have to. Who will protect you Miss Blair."

"Good! Then it is settled."

Blair had given a lot of thought about it. This was exciting. It was mysterious. It was something of the sort of Gossip Girl except that this time, she wouldn't be the victim. And he had said that he valued her. Whoever the man was, he knew personally who _she _was. As fearful as this sounded, it was also gratifying.

Blair Waldorf's worth was finally recognized.

The next meeting settled everything. A few members had not bothered coming back but it did not bug the master who had instructed them to call him Bill or Mr. B. Blair had expressed her desire to be among the best and to be able to carry out any kind of missions. Mr. B had seemed satisfied, although he had kept his mask on. He appointed her to Ludovic, her mentor. With him, she had spent the last four months in training, learning everything from handling snipers to concealing any evidence of one's presence in a crime scene. Ludovic had sent her on a few missions, nothing too great. She had stolen documents from Penelope's parents and taken photographs of private encounters between husbands and mistresses. Ludovic had not thought her ready for her first kill yet which had disappointed Blair slightly. To make up for it, Ludovic gave her Foreman, who had apparently paid ten thousand dollars for one of Cercle 19's agents to accompany him to five of his official dinners. Foreman had been receiving letters that contained threats and he had felt uneasy at the idea of going to these large dinners and galas without someone to spy for him.

There is no need to remind you that Blair had terribly failed. Her phone was turned off as she lay on her bed, two weeks after Foreman's death. Ludovic had probably called her many times but she could not hear his voice. The only way in which she could redeem herself would be by finding out who had committed the deed.

Dorota knocked on the door and then entered without waiting for a reply.

"Mr. Lonely Boy waiting downstairs. I can tell him to leave. You never liked Humphreys anyways."

Blair did not tell Dorota about that tiny little bit of suspicion she still held on to concerning Dan Humphrey. Her maid had been told to be Blair's assistant and helper, Mr. B having found her to be too stout and too loud to be an actual agent. Dorota would watch out while Blair carried out whatever was needed of her but that was already frightening enough for the poor maid who dreaded the day they will be caught.

Blair sat up straight. She was wearing her silk pajamas and her hair was quite disheveled. It was almost midday and she had done nothing but to laze around, rehashing every possible scenario in her head. She would face Humphrey because she was a little curious to know why he had come to see her. Dan usually avoided her place like the pest.

"Tell him I will be down in fifteen minutes and that I am finishing homework."

"That is not true Miss Blair." Dorota said with a slight frown but she was outdone by Blair's own movement of the brows which showed that she was positively frustrated.

She combed her hair and somehow arranged it into an artfully messy chignon. She put on the first skirt and blouse at hand and quickly slipped on a pair of high heels. She had no time for her usual makeup routine so she quickly applied eyeliner and mascara and found herself ready enough to meet him. One look at the mirror indicated that she looked effortlessly chic, as usual, which was all Dan had ever seen her look like. Blair knew that he would get too much satisfaction in his lonely heart at seeing her in pajamas. It would make the headline of his life: Blair Waldorf wears pajamas on Sundays.

"What brings you here?" Blair asked him from the top of the stairs. "Serena isn't with me, if you were wondering. She has gone somewhere, some modeling agency asked for her services."

"I wasn't looking for her. I came here to see you."

Blair was surprised.

"What for?" She answered, remaining in the staircase and standing one step higher than him.

He was wearing a brown leather jacket which told her that it must have been quite cold outside. She had not bothered going out in days. She observed his curly hair, refraining from expressing her dislike. He was looking straight at her face and she became a little bit uncomfortable. Since when did Dan Humphrey muster the courage to stare at her like that?

"I told Miss Carr it was over after what I learned she did to you. Now, don't misunderstand me Blair. This had nothing to do with you being the victim. I just do not agree with what she did."

He still stared at her.

"Alright and your point is? You did not think for one second that I would be affected by this news right? You could continue to date her and have hipster sex with her; it's the last of my concerns."

He chuckled and she just glared at him.

"My point is that you told me that you had gone begging the spokespeople to allow you a chance to get back what was rightfully yours. Well, I gave you the perfect exit! Why didn't you use it?"

Yes, why didn't she use it? She often wondered at that.

"I guess that there was some parcel of honor or humility or whatever that prevented me from doing so. I still don't see how that concerns you. Shouldn't you be gloating somewhere in a corner of Brooklyn now that I, Blair Waldorf, will be going to NYU with the likes of you and Abrams?"

Dan laughed a little before passing a hand through his short curls.

"Believe me Blair, there is nothing satisfying to be gained from you coming to NYU. For one, the odds of seeing you around will be drastically increased."

"Ha ha ha, I didn't think you had mockery in you. Especially since you are usually the subject of it. But thanks anyways for the pseudo-concern."

He smiled nicely and she found herself smiling back. But of course, she immediately frowned too so as to rectify that little slippage.

It was silent for a moment and Blair realized that she had never been truly alone with Dan, except that time where they had had to scheme against Georgina.

"Did you hear of Henry Foreman's death? Quite shocking that it happened just five floors on top of our heads during that party."

He was once again looking her straight in the eyes. It bugged her because she was so used to Dan being the stammering shy young man that could not enunciate a comeback even if he had a gun pointed at his head.

"Yes, of course I did. I was there too you know? Did you happen to hear how he was killed? I haven't had time to read about it."

She kept her tone light and inquisitive. His hands were buried in the pockets of his coat but she could see them moving imperceptibly whether from nervousness or something else, she couldn't tell.

"I'm quite sure it was a bullet to the head." Dan replied. "Or to the heart! Could have been to the heart."

He wasn't looking at her anymore.

"Tragic, as usual. Chuck knew the man."

"That isn't something that will initiate more sympathy from me, if you must know."

She stepped down to walk past him. He smelled a little bit like coffee and cologne which wasn't so unpleasant.

"Are you dealing well with the news though?" Dan asked from behind her. "Some women have had nervous breakdowns. I figured since you were not at school these few days, may be you were−"

Blair turned around to interrupt him because come on! Blair was not of the weak-hearted breed and Dan should probably know that by now. But she was surprised to notice that he seemed genuinely concerned. Her snarky reply got stuck in her throat and she merely smiled.

"I'm fine," she finally said as she sat on her sofa. "Sure, it was shocking but I am over it. I was over it a long time ago. I didn't come to school because I was unwell if you must know."

It wasn't entirely true. Seeing Foreman lie on his own blood hadn't been a pretty memory. His brains were splattered on the white pillow like bloody omelets and he looked nothing like Henry Foreman anymore. She waved the sight from her mind, afraid that her breakfast might decide to climb her esophagus back up. Even though Ludovic had made her watch many videos and photos of death and corpses, the real thing was a thousand times worse.

He stood awkwardly, his hand still in his pocket. He was quite tall. _Taller than Chuck_, she noticed.

"Oh, I see. Well then, I think I wish you to get better."

"You think?" Blair questioned.

"Well yes. I still don't like you, you know."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. But by asking me how I took Foreman's death, you negated your own statement. Wait. Did Serena send you to do this?"

Because there is no way that a Humphrey would willingly bring himself here. Unless we are discussing a certain blonde called Jenny who had a taste as grandiose as Blair's for schemes and revenge.

"It serves me well for coming here!" Dan exclaimed more to himself than to her. "Well, anyways Waldorf. See you at school. Or not."

He nodded towards her and she addressed him the smirk that he probably had always known her for.

The minute she heard the elevator's doors close, Blair rushed quickly back to her room. Dorota followed her, guessing that there was an emergency. She scanned all the articles again, reading them carefully and highlighting the parts where the circumstances of the death were mentioned.

"I knew it!" Blair almost screamed.

"Knew what. I'm confused. Why you reading articles again?"

"Dorota, you are sure you brought me everything that mentioned Foreman's death right? Every single article?"

"Yes. I ran to magazine stand and used credit card to buy. Owner was very happy! He said he wanted to buy me dinner but I said no because of…"

"Yes yes, very charming. Now, I have been reading them and every single other article I could find on the internet. None of them mentioned the bullet was to the head. The coroner's report is not out yet and I suspect this has a lot to do with the fact that Foreman was wanted dead. If they admit that a sniper killed him, they will have to admit that he had unfinished business with some people and the whole rapes fiasco will come out. They are giving themselves time before that, so they just said mentioned it was a gunshot. I'm frankly surprised they kept people in the dark for almost two weeks."

"But Mr. Lonely Boy said shot to the head." Dorota contributed.

"Exactly! Wait, were you overhearing our conversation?"

"I am your assistant and helper. Of course I overhear conversations!"

Blair waved it off, too happy to have reached her conclusion.

"How could Dan know that it was a shot to the head? Unless he had been to the crime scene or has a close friend who works at the morgue or the police…You should have seen him, the way he said it. He didn't hesitate."

"May be he guessed. This is Lonely Boy from Brooklyn, Miss Blair. How can he kill someone?"

"I don't believe it either. I wouldn't have known it myself if I hadn't seen the body. But…I don't know. I don't know what is telling me that it's him. I may be wrong."

Dorota patted her on the shoulder before sitting down on the bed, next to her.

"It's time you get back to school Miss Blair. But we'll keep watching Humphrey. Both of us."

And so, Blair decided that Dan Humphrey was not so irrelevant anymore.

**Dan walked out of Blair's building, feeling quite a little nauseated. **He had tried to check up on Blair Waldorf, partly because if the girl suspected anything, avoiding her would only increase her suspicions. Furthermore, whatever she had been doing inside Foreman's suite, whether she was a killer like him or had merely gone to beg him for a favor concerning her university status, Blair had still witnessed quite a traumatizing scene. He himself was not used to it so how could this spoiled Upper East Side doll be?

Of course he hadn't mentioned seeing her in the suite because that would blow his cover. But indirectly, he had wanted to know about how the news hit her. She had not let anything transpire, not through body language at least. But there was something off about her. It wasn't the Blair he was used to. Then when she asked him about Foreman's specifics, he almost slipped! Thank God he had corrected his mistake in hopefully, a subtle enough manner. Blair did not seem to have noticed.

With Foreman done, Dan had to focus on another mission: Bart Bass' murder.

**This is quite the long chapter! I hope you have enjoyed it. So as the back story of Blair has been told (don't worry, it will be explained even more in future chapters), we can finally delve into the actual action. As I have said, I am heavily inspired by **_**Mr. and Mrs. Smith **_**and we'll see a lot of more physical scenes later on! Right now, I hope I captured the ambiguous relationship that Dan and Blair used to share before they became actual friends. I had a lot of fun writing their dialogue, and Dan, being the nice one, kind of truly felt concerned for her. **

**Anyways, review if you can. I hope this story is keeping you on edge!**


	5. Chapter 5: Inspiration

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of course.**

**Hello dear readers! I am incredibly gratified by all the reviews and subscriptions. I love typing this story and I always look forward to publishing the next chapter. Thank you so much and keep the reviews coming! They motivate me to write more.**

"Blair really has a heart of stone, you know."

Jenny turned to look towards him. She was planning her outfit for the morrow, some preppied version of the Constance uniform that looked strangely like something Blair would wear. He had always warned her that Jenny wouldn't be among those who could get away with modifying the school uniform mainly because they weren't Waldorfs or Van der Woodsens but just plain Humphreys from Brooklyn. If your parents didn't possess a share of prestige attached to their name, you could be certain that privileges won't come easy to you. His sister never cared to listen and sometimes, he understood why. She was beginning to morph into the very people he disliked (mainly Blair and her Penelope clique), wearing headbands adorned with bows and cardigans with brooches. Heels so high she almost looked taller than he was. It bothered him. It bothered him so much that his little sister would choose their path, as if he didn't see enough of those people at school. If he said a word now, Jenny would be quick to arch an eyebrow and ask 'what about Serena huh?' to which he would have no decent response.

Thinking of Serena always disconnected his brain from his mouth and all he could say would be the usual: "You know she's not the same. She's different." But then he always fell short of arguments to prove his point, whether because there was none or because he was too in love to produce one, he never knew.

"She sort of does, yes. But I think it took you a long time to come to this conclusion Dan."

Jenny took out her sewing kit and started spreading a roll of leafy green fabric on her bed. She had cut her hair short and it looked quite edgy. He liked that haircut more than anything else she was sporting because it looked nothing like Blair's wavy locks. Nor Penelope's. Or anyone else who happened to be one of Blair's minions, for that matter.

"I always knew it. Come on, you know what Blair did to me. I think I had it harder, and still do, than you. But it's just…you know…after what happened at that fancy party. You weren't there, thank God. But she was and I asked her about it but she didn't seem affected."

"Why would she be?" His sister replied a little unintelligibly because she was holding needles with her mouth.

_Because I saw her in his room just a few seconds after I shot him through the head._

"I think she sort of knew the man. Not sure. In any case, it's disturbing news! Even I am still a little troubled about it."

Well he had to be. He's the one who killed him.

"You always had too much feelings Dan. I don't think it's fair to set yourself as a standard for comparison. Has Serena gotten over it?"

Dan hadn't bothered inquiring after his girlfriend after that night. Serena had appeared shaken but he left her with Lily so he saw no reason to feel concerned. Furthermore, _Serena _hadn't been the one to witness a disfigured Henry Foreman lying half-naked on a crimson bed. It's funny, he had barely spoken to her these past two weeks.

After what had happened between him and Mrs. Carr, Dan and Serena had somehow rekindled their relationship. He had no idea whether this was genuine or not, whether or not they would change their mind in the next elevator ride they share together and call it off. Her inviting him to that dinner had been evidence enough of her desire to repair what was broken. When he kissed her, in front of one overtly inquisitive Blair, he felt her gradually give in which was all Dan needed for confirmation. All was not yet lost between him and Serena.

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"And you actually think that you two are going to work things out if you _haven't spoken to her in a while_? Please Dan, enlighten me on your plan to regain her affections!"

"Look Jenny…"

"Yeah, I know. This has nothing to do with me. I should shut my mouth and stick to making clothes. You still think I'm a baby! I'm a girl too, you know? And as a girl, if I wanted to give a second chance to the guy who slept with my teacher, I'd feel really cheated if he doesn't meet his end of the bargain!"

There was quite the truth in what Jenny told him. But Jenny didn't know what his extracurricular activities consisted of. Not only did Foreman's murder require him to be extra alert, he now had to find out where Bart Bass was as if he didn't have enough on his plate.

"Aha! I got you for once. You have no reply! Not so wordy anymore right?"

He threw one of her frilly pillows towards the working table. She just stuck her tongue out, further mocking him. He decided to retire to his room after realizing that he would obtain no substantial information from Jenny.

He had hoped that Jenny might have noticed a difference in Blair's behavior and comportment. For one, Dan was truly worried about her. He still dreamt of Foreman's body, and those of all the other people he had had to kill since he started in this notorious business.

He was also wary. Blair was a witness. Sure, she hadn't actually seen the bullet explode Foreman's cranium but she had nonetheless entered the crime scene. What if she decides to reveal herself to the police and ramble about how Dan Humphrey was gone for quite a while from the reception hall during the critical period?

He needed to keep this in mind and normally, nothing in the world would propel him to the Waldorfs' penthouse, not even the promise of seeing Chuck Bass take a good beating for his sins, but this time, he decided to sacrifice his time for the greater good. Concern for Blair was really a sideline matter.

Tomorrow was Monday the 25th of March. He knew that he would see Blair at school.

Normally, if he was the Dan Humphrey of about a year ago, he would pick up his phone right now and call Serena with his heart pumping like an android machine on an overdosing in electricity. That Dan had been devoting so much of his time to Serena, it made him doubt whether he really loved her now or not. Did he? Love her?

Dan paused his thoughts and remembered that he must have sought her again for a reason. He _must _love Serena. Through all the Upper East Side bull crap Dan had gone through, he had found his way to her. This must be love. It must!

He bent down to stretch an arm under his ancient wooden bed. His arm roamed the underworld until it hit something. Dan sighed, happy to have found it there and untouched. He grabbed it and sat on his bed, opening the notebook with care.

A year ago, his inspiration had come from the sickness of love. He had filled half the pages with thoughts of a certain leggy blond who had disappeared from the Upper East Side; a blond he could not detach from his thoughts. He had scribbled down scenarios, chance encounters with Serena where they would meet in the same café and exchange thoughts on a book they were both reading at the time. Mind you, his scenarios were the most clichéd and uninspired of all, not to say that they were also highly unrealistic. Dan almost blushed of embarrassment though he knew that no one would be privy to them. Dan allowed himself to be excused. After all, he had been younger and shaky with his creativity. He had been inspired by the wrong feelings; infatuation and love. With those, he could only write hopeful narratives, twisting reality in order to get a little satisfaction from reading his own mind. After he and Serena broke up, due to the Georgina matter, he had put away his notebook and decided to focus on the agency and pleasing Fawkes.

And now, Dan was inspired again.

What triggered this sudden need to write? It wasn't Serena and he knew it. It was seeing Blair in that nude Valentino dress rushing to the window, sending him down on his knees for fear to be discovered. For now, Dan was back to square one. He was back to fearing Blair; her actions, her words and even her presence would make him uncomfortable. And it was this mild familiar fear that had him jotting down words on his notebook with the logoed pen that he found laying around.

_Blair Waldorf knows everything. Her big doe-eyes could cause one to mistake her for one of the good girls. They are large and brown like expensive chocolate and she'll flap her eyelashes for good measure, getting exactly what she wants. She compliments her look of faux-innocence with a nice headband, preferably adorned with a bow of some sorts. She doesn't get her headbands from Claire's but some expensive designer house like Chanel or her Prada so she never appears like a preteen dressed like a toddler but a young woman who could be just a tad childish. Her hair is as her eyes and it would fall prettily around her headbanded face. She may look like a good girl alright. The kind of girl who would adopt abandoned dogs and shrill away at the sight of insects and vermin. She did shrill away at the sight of insects and vermin but that depends on what your definition of insects and vermin is. Because to Blair, anything moving that is not a part of her Upper East Side qualifies as vermin. I qualify as vermin. And I did say she knows everything right? Because, unlike the good girls, Blair Waldorf does not have friends but minions. They are the less clever versions of her who abide by her rules whether from willing devotion or a total lack of self-esteem, I still cannot ascertain. Blair's system functions well. She is fed, like the Queen Bee that she is, without moving. People hear and talk but it all goes to her in the end. Then of course, she filters and if she has anything to reproach you, you better hope she finds no dirt on you. _

Dan stopped and looked down at the paragraph he wrote, slightly amused by this profusion of words. He never realized how much he could have to say about Blair until he actually put down words on paper. He crossed Blair's name on the page every time it appeared and wrote Claire instead. He needed to conceal Blair's name because he felt this excerpt was only the beginning of something bigger. He had lots to write about and his writer's mind began hosting numerous ideas about the direction this narrative could take.

Dan was excited again and it was not until his father knocked on his door at midnight to remind him that school was tomorrow that he hid his notebook away and slept.

**Okay, so I decided to allude to Dan's **_**Inside **_**right now. I know he only started writing the book in season 4 but I am taking some liberties here. In any case, he is just starting the book but of course as he will learn to know Blair, his opinion and depiction of her will change. I hope I captured Dan's satirical tone in the little extract we got . I also want to be assured that I am getting the characters right. I'm not rushing into anything right now and in the next paragraph, we will learn what the Bart Bass mission is all about.**

**Until then, take care and please review. The more reviews I get, the more motivated to write I am!**


	6. Chapter 6: Wife

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of course.**

**Oh thanks to Magnus57, I realized that I haven't been taking liberties since apparently Dan told Vanessa in the show that he has been writing **_**Inside **_**for five years. Thanks for telling me!**

**And some of you have been asking for more action. Well, I hope this nice discussion between Dan and Blair is action enough for you!**

**Thank you for the reviews and subscriptions and keep them coming!**

He sat down somewhere in the outside cafeteria waiting for Serena to show up. The Constance students around him were in their usual routine of flirting and posing and Dan observed them with a critical eye. All of a sudden, he found them interesting subjects. He took in as much as he could: the girls' expensive outfits and thousand dollars smiles, the boys' shameless flaunting of their parents wealth, and the way they all looked the same even if they were from different races. He watched them laugh in unison, discussing a party that one of them organized on his father's yacht and particularly lingering their giggles on the fact that they totally abused of his Chateau Margaux wine stock.

His hand was burning to jot down notes but he knew Serena would join him soon and he didn't want her to see anything.

Five minutes passed and he was the recipient of curious looks now that the group of rich kids finally noticed his presence. Dan pretended he was texting somebody even if his blackberry was one of the old series. It was so large and heavy that it looked more like a black block of soap with a screen and digits than an actual phone. He really needed to get a new one.

Then he saw her come out of the school building, her, the subject of his writing.

She wore blood-red tights and a pair of black patent high-heeled mary-janes. Her skirt moved with every determined, confident step she took. He saw the headband matched her tights and so did her lips. Those were pursed in an eternal half-smile, the kind that lets you think she may have dirt on you. She held her bag by the hand, something expensive like Longchamp or Lanvin, like a business woman. Blair always looked like she had business to attend anyways. Penelope walked at her side and the other two minions followed behind.

Dan had never seen someone else make such an entrance like Blair Waldorf. Never.

He hid his phone and made sure he looked nonchalant. He saw her spot him and just as he thought that she would do the usual, which is ignoring him, he was proved wrong when she strutted her way to his table.

"Waiting for Serena, I take it?" Blair sang in a mocking tone.

"And you are back at school. I'm going to miss those Blair Waldorf-less days."

Blair, to Dan's surprise, sat down on the bench, folding her legs like a proper lady. Her minions all looked at her like she was approaching a diseased animal.

"Blair, I thought we were supposed to check up on Alyson Wagner's 2004 Marc Jacobs flats? You remember? The ones nobody else is supposed to own but you?"

Blair raised her eyes to the sky as if silently praying for God to give her patience. Dan only smirked at the whole scene, still uncertain about why she chose to sit down with him anyway.

"Is she going to disappear off the face of the Earth? I don't think so. She can wait and so can you. Go fix your makeup or something. And remove this dreadful cardigan. I have been meaning to tell you since this morning."

Penelope sighed and turned around, the other minions following her after looking at Dan with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

"Alright Blair, what have I done to deserve this punishment?"

"Punishment? But no, Humphrey! This is the highlight of your day!"

Dan wasn't sure what she meant. He saw her delicate fingers, the same fingers that had cruelly clutched his arm a year and a half ago, search through her designer bag.

"You don't have to keep me company until Serena comes. I am the lonely boy after all. I can take care of myself."

Blair detached her attention from her bag to turn and look at him.

"Oh but Serena isn't coming! She told me to inform you she had to leave school. I'm not sure what happened. I really do hope for you that she isn't visiting some hippie art gallery in Brooklyn. We don't want another Aaron to distract her do we?"

Dan's disappointment must have shown on his face and he cursed himself for being such an open book. He was tempted to check his phone in order to see whether Serena had left him any message but he knew that the last thing he needed was Blair's comment on the device. He swallowed hard and made himself look Blair in the eye. He found her look awaiting his and for once, it had no criticism, no judgment or mockery.

"I'm sure she has a good reason." Blair finally said, not without gentleness.

"So why are you here again, except to transmit the message?" Dan replied, disregarding her words. He would have no pity from her. It didn't feel right.

He had sounded harsh because she gave him a reproachful look before getting back to her original, bitch queen countenance.

"To tell you that you are quite clever!"

He frowned at that.

"Oh really? And you decided that when?"

"When you told me that Henry Foreman had received a bullet to the head when no other newspaper or article mentioned it! Imagine my surprise when I read those and remembered what you told me. Then of course, yesterday the autopsy report was finally made public and there it was! Bullet to the head! . You. Said."

Do her eyes become black when she is in the middle of a questioning? He couldn't help but see a dark light dancing in them. She was enjoying this way too much. Her red lips were half-open, as if awaiting a particularly sweet kiss. He wished he could remain calm long enough to escape this situation without causing more suspicion. He willed Jenny to come interrupt. Or Eric. Or even Chuck Bass. Yes, Chuck Bass would do very well. Blair was always hung up on his every move.

Most of all, he had clearly underestimated her own cleverness. She had picked up on his mishap and bothered to actually verify it. He should have known how Blair Waldorf was.

"What are you implying exactly?" Dan asked smoothly, deciding to handle the bull by its horns.

She took out some magazines and newspaper articles that dated from a week or two ago. They were annotated and highlighted.

"Oh, nothing! I am not implying anything. Just _remarking _that it's quite astonishing for you to have known."

"All suicides are committed to the head. I just guessed right. Don't look too much into it. I am no psychic."

"But I was not implying that you were a psychic. No, not that. And this wasn't a suicide, we all know it." Blair replied with a raise of the eyebrow.

"So you _were _implying something after all?"

She paused, her eyes surveying him cold and no more filled with false amiability. There was Blair Waldorf as she should be under all her smiles and politeness.

"Perhaps I was."

His fear of being discovered was still there but somehow, he became defiant. This could only go two ways. For one, he could try to play the innocent and pretend to misunderstand everything Blair says. Or he could actually realize that they both knew the other was hiding something. Because they did. Or he could do a little bit of both.

"What then, did you mean to imply with this obviously double-faced attempt at complimenting me?" Dan asked slowly, looking straight into her eyes.

She bent her head, allowing some of her wavy locks to touch the dirty table.

"I am implying that you are not all that you seem Humphrey boy. I am implying that you weren't just out taking a call while Foreman was murdered. I am implying that you know how he was killed because you had something to do with it."

She had whispered all of that. His heart was beating hard on his ribcage and it was all he could do to keep his hands from nervously moving. Then, Dan regained some good sense. If he acknowledges any of her accusations, he would give her a reason to keep digging.

So instead, he laughed.

"Nice try Waldorf. But no matter how much you would like to see me in jail, well away from your social circle, it takes more than me having a lucky guess and the inconvenience of having been away during Henry Foreman's murder to incarcerate me. If that were the case, we would probably all be in jail right now. Especially you."

She was still staring at him and for a moment, as she uncrossed one of her legs, he thought she would finally get up and leave. But it so happened that she only meant to re-cross them the other way.

"You always seemed so nice, Humphrey. Always the friendly lad, welcoming Nate into your already modest home. People who aren't Serena forget you easily. I almost did. But I never will again."

"Can you please make sense?" Dan answered with a half-laugh.

"Oh please! I see what you're doing, trying to hide behind your poorly-worded sarcasm. I may never know the truth, but at least I know with whom it lays."

She slowly put back the articles and magazines inside her bag.

"Believe what you want Blair. I know I'm not a murderer and I am pretty sure that everyone who knows me would say the same. Even Chuck Bass. In fact, he would make a much more likely suspect, come to think of it!"

"Foreman was Bart Bass' friend and colleague! Chuck wouldn't come close to scratch his polished shoes if he knows what's good for him."

Dan snorted, noticing that he gained the upper hand in this strange discussion. Blair was beginning to look a little less convinced.

"But money is money and Bass Industries run on it. Chuck inheriting the whole thing will probably change his perceptions of friendship. I know it already changed his perception of you, right? What did he call you again? Wife?"

It was his turn to be smug, his turn to feel superior. Her mouth closed, bringing two angry crimson lips together.

"How dare you?" Blair almost screamed.

"Exactly the same manner in which you accused me of being a murderer."

She stood up, her red tights shining with her anger.

"I was wrong. You clearly aren't a nice guy but the insensitive, judgmental, lonely boy I always thought you were! That's why Serena dumped this little _rencontre _to go shopping today!"

With that, she stormed away from him, stomping angrily with her mary-janes. He felt he had won the battle but not the war. He also felt he had wronged her. And it made him feel guilty.

Chuck Bass had always been a sensitive topic with Blair especially since Bart Bass' death. He had shamelessly rejected her help and support and eroded what had been left of Blair's pride after she had been stood out by the man.

_But she had asked for it! What right did she have to come around and accuse you of something?_

He heard his inner voice trying to justify his words. It was true. Nonetheless, he could have said it without mentioning that event.

He would have to make nice. It was inevitable. Fawkes had asked for Bart Bass to be killed and he would do it. The man was not dead and Dan knew that the first thing he needed to do was to be closer to Chuck Bass. Since Chuck was currently in a half-emotionless half-drunken stupor state, now was not the best time to approach him, especially since Dan had never counted among his favorite people. He suspected that Bart might have left hints of his whereabouts that Chuck was yet too shocked to recognize. But in due time, he would and soon enough, he would go confide in Blair whether she'll have him or not and Dan would simply need to befriend her and hope that she lets something slip out one day.

This was an unlikely scenario. The best he could hope would be for Chuck, through Blair, to realize that Dan could be a friend instead of a foe. For that, he was starting on the wrong foot. And Fawkes had told him to befriend Blair, to keep her closer. She had particularly insisted on that, though Dan didn't know why it was so important to the Bart Bass mission. He had started nicely with that visit at her penthouse but had undone all of it with a single word.

**At Fawkes office, 7 pm on Monday**

Dan stood awkwardly facing the usually faceless Fawkes. She had told him to come see her because she has urgent news to communicate to him. Ten minutes passed before the doors opened and a young man was ushered in. He looked like an Upper East Sider alright. He wore a light blue shirt tucked in silver grey pants and his hair laid back in smooth waves. He looked like Nate, but quite less attractive.

"So young man. Tell my friend about who you saw at the Cercle 19's meeting?" Fawkes called out from the depth of her high chair.

_Cercle 19? Is that a fancy restaurant? _

"I saw Blair Waldorf. Her maid took my spot in the circle and I was told to leave. I was told that I wasn't relevant and that I shouldn't try to expose them. But I'm not! I came to you because I have done my research. I don't want to expose them, I want to destroy them."

"Wow, easy on the anger lad. One thing at a time. Did you by any chance know who the master of the circle was?" Fawkes asked.

"No. He wore a mask and always stood in the dark. I think he also has a device that changes his voice. It's so loud and cold."

Dan saw the young man shiver. He was only the more puzzled.

"Well, no matter. I will tell you who Blair Waldorf, her maid and the other seventeen members of Cercle 19 work for. It's no other than Bart Bass."

Dan had a hard time grasping it. The youth next to him was in the same state of mind.

"But…but he's dead!" the man exclaimed.

"No, not at all. He's hiding behind his secret society. And that's why, my friend, you shall keep Blair Waldorf as close to you as second skin."

**Quite the shocker right? Well I hope you liked this paragraph! I am setting up the pace for more action to come. **

**It's hard to see whether Dan truly cares for Blair (and vice versa) or whether he is just doing it for the mission. I hope to make it ambiguous for now because I think our characters don't know it themselves yet. Keep having faith in this story, and we'll find out. Also hope I captured the tension between the two in their dialogue!**

**Comments, reviews, suggestions please! I live for feedback!**


	7. Chapter 7: Apology

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Shout-out to moviegal102, Magnus57, mFoto and Rf for always reviewing and keeping me motivated to write more. Thanks to your wonderful reviews, I actually want to update faster. I hope I will not disappoint!**

**Enjoy this chapter!**

Two weeks passed by since her encounter with Dan in the outdoors cafeteria. She had promptly avoided his presence, which was something Blair excelled at. On the rare times she would cross his path in the corridors, her eyes would cast her signature look of utter disgust and she knew that even though he sometimes pretended he hadn't seen her, there was no way that Dan did not feel the immense hatred seeping from her.

Blair had been taken by surprise, really. Of all the people, being taunted by Dan about Chuck felt truly horrible. He knew the Chuck and Blair saga, had even tried to help their cause. He was the intellectual, or the wannabe intellectual of the bunch and being derisively laughed at by him was like a burning slap to the face. She could take it from clueless Nate, whom she had always known and who could never be deliberately mean to her. She could even take it from Serena because if she had forgiven her for sleeping with the said Nate, she could get over any of her mishaps.

What Dan had said made her feel foolish. His tone had been condescending and she knew how much he disapproved of the two of them, how much he found her repressed devotion to Chuck ridiculous. Deep down, she also felt the same. She was aware of just how much Chuck had hurt her feelings in the past and yet, she kept yearning for more like a hormonal teen in love instead of focusing on forgetting him. But Blair never allowed herself to feel foolish, always making excuses for her feelings. Sometimes, she told herself that Chuck was like that because of his daddy issues. Her excuse du jour was his father's death. Yes, Chuck had hurt her but people always act out when they are grieving. She might have been too pushy herself if Blair thought about it.

"So Mr. Dan not suspect anymore?" Dorota asked her as Blair debated whether she should finally call Ludovic or not. "You stopped talking about it. I can spy on him. I have good black sunglasses and camera."

Blair closed her history textbook and went to her wardrobe instead. Constance was organizing a spring dance for the next Friday and she was much more inclined to study her wardrobe than her historical dates.

"You were right Dorota. He is just a regular guy from Brooklyn. May be I just wanted it to be him because I have nothing else to tell Ludovic about my grandiose failure."

Dorota picked up her books in order to smoothen her champagne bed sheets. Blair searched through her array of evening dresses, trying to find the perfect one for a spring-themed dance. There were many that she had never worn and some from her mother's designs when the latter felt she had been absent for too long.

There was a red Valentino gown with a vaporous layer of muslin surrounding it. That one felt a bit too dramatic. Then, she had also the Marchesa, which was in soft pink and bared her shoulders. It was a little too understated and she knew it wouldn't please Chuck that much. Not that she really cared.

She went through them one by one; the green silk by Calvin Klein was too plain, the two nude-toned empire-waist dresses from her mother were even plainer, the mermaid McQueen was too depressing.

"Really? I have no flower-printed dress? Not even one?" Blair wondered aloud.

"You said no prints for evening dresses. You said that it doesn't make sense. Too cheap." Dorota contributed as she joined her inside the large closet.

Blair had always favored one-tone dresses. It was something her mother had told her: Minimum amount of color is always best. The more you distract the eye, the less you shine.

Blair didn't know when she started liking printed evening gowns. Perhaps, some part of her was rebelling. And maybe she wanted to show Chuck she could dare something different.

"So I do not stalk Lonely Boy after all?" Dorota asked her.

Blair left the closet to go to her laptop. She had seen flower prints from Dolce and Gabanna's latest collection.

"Not necessary anymore. I will keep an eye on him but no more. I have already given him too much by accusing him. It's better he thinks I am over it, just in case he does turn out to have something fishy going on."

She watched the runway video, mentally selecting the designs she liked.

"When you will call Ludovic?"

Her eyes fell on the perfect one. The fabric was light, printed with pink and magenta flowers on a soft beige background. The waist had a belt made of fabric shaped into roses and its length went all the way down. It was romantic and classy without being boring. Blair ordered it on the spot. She had forgotten Dorota's question until the latter reiterated it.

"I don't know! I don't! He is probably angrier than ever, especially since I haven't called him at all. I am scared of what Mr. B might say. What if I am kicked out of the circle?"

"I come with you, if they kick you out Miss Blair!"

"Of course you will Dorota! What did you think? That you would continue on your own among the other Cercle 19 members? Come on! I appreciate the support but this was quite a given."

Dorota was mumbling in discontent when they heard the distinct _ding _of the elevator. Blair had been expecting Serena soon so they could go shop for a new pair of high heels together. It had been their tradition, each time one would break up with her boyfriend. Serena and Dan had called it quits last Sunday and Blair did not delay their shopping session one minute.

Blair quickly put on her blazer and tied up her oxfords. She grabbed her bag and made her way down the stairs only to stop halfway at the sight of a curly-haired head.

"You!" She said. "I don't know who made you think it was a good idea to visit me again, but please go slap that person right now. I don't want you here. Get out."

He raised his head to look at her properly and she pursed her lips, ready to show exactly how much she despised him just in case he hadn't understood that already.

"Can you just hear me out first? The longer you resist this encounter, the more time it'll take for me to leave. You choose."

She let out an exaggerated sigh before making her way down to him.

"And I will tell you now. If you're here to plead your case concerning your breakup with Serena, you won't get any support for me."

"I'm not that deluded. I know you never liked her with me."

She walked up to him and crossed her arms, waiting for whatever he had to say to come out. He was wearing a plaid shirt with a woolen vest on top so that he looked positively lumberjackish. Regardless of his lack of tasteful style, Blair noticed that on top of being taller than she had ever remembered him, he was also more built. When had this happened? The Dan Humphrey of a year ago was a plumper thing, with only the shadowy outline of a great body. This was weird.

"I realized something," He began, sounding serious. "the other day when we had that talk in which you totally accused me of murdering Henry Foreman."

He smiled as if the idea was, well, totally ludicrous. Blair almost felt stupid for having suggested it. But she refused to speak, nor to respond by a smile of her own. Impassibility was what this Humphrey would be treated with.

Dan was not discouraged by her lack of response. He took in a deep breath and looked even more like a pitiful puppy.

"So." Another breath of air followed. "I was irritated and frustrated that you could dislike me so much to the point of suspecting me of being involved in a murder case. I know you and I have never been on good terms. I don't approve of your ways, or of your headbands. I hate what you are doing to my sister and sometimes, I wish you weren't Serena's friend because God knows it would be easier to avoid you. And I know you are so totally against the idea of Brooklyn and people coming from there and anything that isn't related to what you're used to. And I endured everything from you because…well because it was you and I guess I accepted that you'll always be around to piss me off…"

_God, he is rambling. And Serena used to think this was cute?_

"…But when you told me about Foreman, I just snapped. And if there is one thing I know, is that you sort of love Chuck. God knows why you do, but it's true. And that makes you a little bit more human which is why I shouldn't have attacked you on this. It was a low blow and for that, I sincerely apologize."

Dan attempted a smile and she could see he was really being sincere. It puzzled her a lot and she was almost certain that this man couldn't be a killer. He just couldn't.

Blair tried to think of the last time a guy had apologized to her in that manner. Nate had vaguely expressed remorse for sleeping with Serena but each time she saw his pretty blue eyes seek her friend, she was reminded of how he never really got over her. And Chuck…well she was still waiting for that one to apologize.

"Well, since you are bent on giving no answer, I won't linger here. Just know that I'm sorry. We can go back to being barely able to stand each other instead of whatever treatment you have been giving me these past two weeks."

She watched him walk away and somehow, it felt wrong to let him go without any sort of answer. If he could have set his ego aside to do this, she could do the same.

"Just for the record, Humphrey." Blair called out.

Dan turned swiftly to face her and she fought the smile that was threatening to break out on her lips.

"I don't think you're a murderer. Not anymore. It must have been a passing fancy of mine."

"I'm glad to hear it. Not that it matters to me, considering we both _obviously _don't care about what the other thinks right?"

She nodded fervently.

"Not one bit. Now, take your leave. Serena will be here soon and I don't want to be caught in the middle of an awkward scene."

When Blair went back upstairs to see Dorota, she was smiling openly, unable to comprehend why Dan apologizing could make her so gleeful. Her maid was frowning, visibly puzzled too.

"Dan Humphrey apologized?" Dorota asked. "Is this why you happy Miss Blair?"

"No! I'm happy because Serena is coming, that's all. I don't remember the last time we did something together!"

Dorota looked unconvinced but Blair was not going to justify herself any further, knowing that if she did, she would confirm what her maid thought.

"**I saw Dan in the lobby? Did he come to see you?"** Serena asked her, barely bothering to hide her curiosity.

Blair could see she was not entirely over him yet. Her friend looked hopeful, as if wanting to extract from Blair the information that Dan had come to beg her to convince Serena to take him back. She had never liked the two of them together. First, yes, Dan was a judgmental ass from Brooklyn and he was also related to Jenny Humphrey which could do nothing in his favor. Yet, that wasn't really why she didn't approve of the Derena affair. She just never saw the two as a good match. Serena was a free spirit, a fleeting fire spark who could never be captured. Blair sometimes envied that of her. Serena could do anything, and be anything. She was versatile and people loved her no matter what she did. Yet, she was indecisive. She would always try new things, be with new people. It wouldn't take long before Serena finds another man. And she was not intellectual, not like Dan. These two could well love each other but it didn't mean they were meant to be.

"Yes, he did. I'm sure he told you what it was all about." Blair replied as they made their way to the elevator.

"Not really. Was it about me?"

Her friend was wearing a soft leather coat over woolen leggings and thigh-high boots. Blair was tempted to roll her eyes but controlled the reflex instead.

_It has to be about you right?_

"Actually no, it was about me."

She didn't know why she was getting any sort of satisfaction from this, didn't know why someone whom she despised could make her feel the tiny bit gratified by the fact that he was visiting her for herself. She suppressed a smile, knowing Serena was living heartbreak and that she would help in no way by being smug.

"He came to apologize to me, if you must know. He made one of his signature judgmental comments about me and Chuck. What an ass."

That was all it had taken for Serena to start her outpour of emotions and Blair had done it on purpose. And as they visited Blahnik, Louboutin, Atwood, Serena kept going, rambling just as much as he did for once, and pointing out how distant he had been these days, how inconsiderate!

"Even to you B!"

Blair wasn't going to remind her that Dan did apologize. She didn't want to interrupt.

"I will always love him. I know that. But it just feels wrong and useless and pathetic to be the one hoping for him to call. Last time, I was talking to him and he just wasn't listening. May be something is going on with his life but it's like, he doesn't even want me to know what it is."

Blair wondered at that. It is true that Dan had changed. He had become taller, more muscled but he had also reached a new level of confidence.

"It's time we get over these boys, S. Look at you. You're a gorgeous blond, waiting to be loved and worshipped by your professors and peers in whatever Ivy League you're going to choose. And I will be content knowing that you are happy!"

"You'll be happy too in NYU. You're Blair Waldorf. You'll make a new set of minions in no time, I know it!"

They both laughed as they strutted in their respective new pair of heels, Blair with Jimmy Choo court shoes and Serena with the highest Zanottis anyone had ever seen.

"**Hi. I know I have taken time to call you back." **

"And what do you have to say to that?" Ludovic replied almost coldly.

Blair had put the phone on speaker. It was ten in the evening and her mother was fast asleep in her room. She would leave in the morning for Paris in order to introduce her France division.

Blair's door was closed but Dorota was with her. She had begged her maid, who hadn't needed much begging in fact, to remain a little longer so that she could offer some moral support through her conversation with Ludovic. Blair's Jimmy Chooed feet were nervously tapping the ground while trying to figure out what excuse she could offer. Dorota was making frantic gestures that Blair could not comprehend. It only made Blair more nervous.

"I…I was trying to find out what had really happened. I thought, well, I had my suspicions on someone but it turned out so unbelievable. Alright, let's face it. I was afraid to call you because I failed. There it is! I failed."

There was a pause on the other line. Blair looked at Dorota who was now pacing around the room, rearranging uselessly the decorations on her vanity. It seemed to calm her down.

"Yes, you did. Although he did disobey our recommendation, you should never have let your eyes off him. This doesn't look good for your first task. It's going to take time before Cercle 19 regains its good reputation among the elite."

"So am I out?" Blair asked breathless.

"No. You're not _out. _You can't be out of Cercle 19. But you'll have to prove yourself until you succeed."

Dorota stopped her fidgeting and approached her.

"What do you want me to do? Because, I'll do it. This time, I won't mess up. I can guarantee it."

Ludovic laughed at her eagerness.

"Don't guarantee anything Blair. This is no easy task. This is a kill. You have been trained but nothing is certain."

Blair felt Dorota grab her hand. This was her first killing assignment. She felt a mixture of pride and fear, the latter being much more dominant.

"Yes." She tried to answer without betraying anything of her current emotional state. "I will achieve it to the best of my ability. You have my word."

"Alright. The man is no stranger to you. Rufus Humphrey."

Blair was short of words and breath. Dorota muffled a scream by placating her hands on her mouth.

"Blair?" Ludovic said after having received no answer.

"I'm here." Her voice sounded so small, so unlike what it should sound like.

"Well?" Ludovic pressured.

Dorota was saying no, this time not caring if she was heard.

"This is madness. Madness!" Her maid squealed.

She thought of what the other members of Cercle 19 were saying behind her back, of what Mr. B would say. She thought of having lost NYU again, of Serena with her blond hair accomplishing things without straightening a finger and of Chuck who had called her a wife. She kept Dan and Jenny far away from her thoughts in that moment, knowing that remembering his apology would make things harder. This wasn't personal.

"I will do it. By the end of this week, if I can help it."

**I will leave you here. Again, to those who review faithfully, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.** **My fic may not be popular, but if it can please you, I am more than satisfied.**

**Again, I hope I have stayed true to the characters. It's my primordial objective. I also hope you enjoyed the apology and Blair's reaction to it. I think she is starting to warm up to Dan don't you? **

**Comments and reviews are always welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8: Dance

**Lord, you guys have spoiled me with reviews! I think I will get used to this (which means that you better keep them coming ). **

**Some of you have been asking for some DB romance goodness. I'm sorry that it's taking time but I want to do this right. I want their build-up to be profound and realistic unlike Chair's. But I promise that this chapter will have some good physical action between the two ;-)! **

**This one is going to be very Mr. and Mrs. Smith-like!**

"Can I ask you one thing?" Blair said.

"Yes."

"Who is the client who required this kill?"

There was no answer for a long moment. The only thing that could be heard was Dorota's Polish rambling in the background. Blair had told her to go in her closet if she couldn't control herself.

"You need not know." Ludovic finally replied. "It's irrelevant to your mission."

"I know, I know! It just seems strange that someone could have anything against Rufus Humphrey of all people! He is just a washed up rock hippie, with only one successful musical tour in his résumé. Who could hate him so much?"

But Blair already knew the answer. Or at least, she thought she knew. Bart Bass was dead, there was no denying that. She had gone to the funerals, had seen how Chuck took the whole situation. She even witnessed how angry he got against Dan just for being Rufus' son. He despises Lily for having broken his father's heart and Rufus for being the man she chose instead. Cercle 19 was for the elite and Chuck had become the elite now that Bass Industries are his. He could have requested this. He was so grief-ridden that anything would be possible.

Her fingers were trembling when she finally put her phone away. Ludovic had bid her a goodnight and had urged her to be as discreet as possible, his voice finally losing its coldness to become a little gentler.

Blair breathed deeply. She could do it. She could do it. Who was Rufus Humphrey to her? No one. Nobody worth knowing.

_I never liked his offspring anyway! _

Dorota left the closet.

"Miss Blair, I was right! Madness. Don't do it! Don't do it! He has children. You know Lonely Boy. And Jenny! You better than this Miss Blair! You know you are!"

She didn't need Dorota to remind her of everything that made this mission wrong.

"You tell them no. Tell them you can't." Dorota urged her. "I will come with you. We say Humphrey is good father, not harmful."

Blair faced Dorota, doing everything in her power to remain in control.

"It's alright. You can go home now."

Dorota saw exactly through Blair but she understood that there was nothing she could do.

"I will pray for you Miss Blair." Her maid stated with cold dignity before leaving her room.

That night, Blair did not sleep.

She had Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday before the spring dance. She had heard, from Serena, that Rufus and Lily would be chaperoning the event, not as a couple though. The two of them had gone off somewhere together for three days and Serena had no idea what they have been doing. As for Blair, she was only happy that Rufus would be present at the dance. It would ease her task.

She walked to her closet and approached the farthest end. Blair pushed her skirts aside, revealing the wall. At first look, anyone would only see a plain cream-colored wall. If you knocked on it, you would hear the distinct thud of a double wall. Blair pressed the point of her left foot on the bottom, making the whole thing balance backward and fall on top of her raised hands. She pushed the fake wall aside and made it lean against the door of her closet, which she had closed.

"Alright, how do we do this?" She said to herself, trying to encourage her spirits.

In front of her were all the weapons that Ludovic had trained her with. She saw her two silent revolvers, a Ruger Mark II which she loved best because of its sleek silver lining. Ludovic had explained that its barrel was the best of its kind, making it the most silent of all. Her other revolver was a vintage thing she had never really liked. Then of course, her .22 Long Rifle was also a good option, except that she couldn't bring that to the dance. It could hardly fit in her evening bag. She also owned a good set of combat knives which could slip in easily in her outfit.

Blair placed the fake wall back in its original position and left the closet. She could slit his throat or she could shoot him. Yet, those were her last-minute solutions. The much-preferred option was poison. She could slip it in his glass of punch and it would be subtle and bloodless. Nobody would notice anything.

Wednesday reached her and Dorota was still not speaking to her. Tuesday had been spent on planning things and visiting the dance hall in order to assess how she would go about poisoning someone to death in it. She had researched the poison and Ludovic ordered it for her.

Blair needed to do something today. It was entirely mad, but she would go see Rufus and apologize. She couldn't kill the man without at least asking for his forgiveness.

She went during her lunch break, knowing Dan was at school and Jenny at her internship and that she would find him alone. Blair was so stressed that she could barely focus on the Brooklyn entourage, which she had never actually observed in her life. She tumbled out of the car, asked her chauffeur to wait until she was done.

She knocked on the door, half-hoping he wasn't there. Rufus knew what Blair had been like to his daughter.

"Yes!" She heard Rufus Humphrey shout. His steps followed and the door opened.

"Blair?" He said incredulously.

She saw his frown, the way his hand kept the door firmly in place, determined not to invite her in. He didn't have any trace of judgment in him. He was no Dan. But he was not pleasantly surprised either.

"Mr. Humphrey. Hi." Her voice sounded like a stranger's.

"If you're here to torment Jenny, well I am sorry to inform you that she isn't home right now."

She could see he was a kind man but she would rather not acknowledge it.

"I came to see you in fact. I won't be long."

He was even more confused. She understood perfectly. Blair and Rufus Humphrey had never had anything to connect them except Serena but that was a link that has weakened since her break up with Dan.

"I'm here to apologize. I realized I was awful to your daughter. And your son at times. But mostly Jenny. I can't guarantee that I won't do it again in the future. Especially if she insists on bothering me. But I will try my best. But for what I have done so far, I can say that I wish I didn't. "

His face softened a little. There was niceness in his feature, which was something she had not seen often among the men in her life. He felt so very different, so relaxed and laid-back. She knew Chuck would never grow old to be like him, nor anyone in her social circle. Except his own son, Dan. She couldn't understand those people from Brooklyn. He smiled at her like he didn't hold grudges. Who does that?

"Well Blair, I'm glad for your apology. Can't say you haven't taken me by surprise but I always knew you were a good kid underneath all…All that."

He waved his hand to indicate he was talking about her outfit. She laughed a little.

"I will try to be better, I promise."

And it felt like Blair was making a commitment to a person on her death bed, which was not far from the actual case. She fought the urge to hug him, knowing how weird the whole thing was. Plus, she was certain she would never have hugged him if he hadn't been designated as her victim. It would be like hugging an older version of Dan, which was just unthinkable.

She left him suddenly, not wanting to linger.

_This is nothing personal. Nothing personal, alright? You shouldn't feel conflicted anymore. You have to do it, and that's that. No matter what, as Mr. B said. _

The dance would start in an hour, at exactly six in the afternoon. Blair was contemplating her reflection on the mirror. The dress she had ordered had not been a miss. It had a slit on the side that barely showed unless she would be walking at a great speed. Blair always liked to keep things classy. She had accessorized it with gold earrings set with large purple tourmalines from Arpels and the matching necklace. Her hair was up in a net of intertwined braids so that it wouldn't trouble her. Her evening purse lay on the vanity; it was a light pink thing made of veil-like material on the outside and it looked so dainty, nobody would suspect a gun to be hidden inside. Blair applied some more plum lipstick before slipping in her high heels. One last thing needed to be done.

She pulled up the skirt of her dress, revealing the garters underneath. Garters were Chuck's kryptonite but she hadn't worn them for Chuck. She took one of her combat knives and slipped it in between, the blade feeling cold against her skin. She had asked Dorota to modify slightly that pair of garters in order for the knife to remain in place no matter how frenetically she moved tonight. Her maid had complied without a word, sending her cold looks of disapproval when she thought Blair wasn't looking.

Blair would not argue with her. She knew that if Dorota started listing all the reasons why this was wrong, because it really was wrong, Blair would never accomplish the deed.

The combat knife couldn't fit in the evening purse since the gun had already taken most of the space. She slipped her plum lipstick in there too and a small bottle of Chanel Chance, which she felt she really needed. At last, on the inside pocket so that it wouldn't accidentally break by hitting the other objects inside, she put the vial of poison which was no bigger than her thumb. One last look at the mirror and Blair was ready.

Constance's dances had always played on the nature of the students who attend them. Since most of them belonged to rich families, the dances had to reflect some sort of luxury. They didn't get random kool-aid punch but actual juice. The decorations looked like movie props. There were fake trees inside that looked so real with flowers blooming on every branch. The garlands were made of real orchids hanging above their hands. It even smelled like spring, although Blair had no idea how they managed that one. They had brought projectors that threw lime-green light at the ceiling. The music was upbeat; some Rihanna song blasting through the speakers had most of the students dancing.

_This is not a proper setting for a murder. _

Blair walked in, her heart beating fast against her chest. She was soon joined by Penelope and Nelly Yuki. The former wore a soft yellow dress, the kind you could see on members of the English royalty. Blair approved. Nelly Yuki had gone with a silky, fuchsia mullet dress that Blair struggled to understand. Oh well, today was not the day for remarks. She let it pass.

"Who is here?" Blair asked.

It was her protocol-like question for every dance. Penelope would enumerate who had come and with whom, who was alone and who was absent. Blair always needed to know those things.

"Chuck Bass is here." Penelope started, eyeing her like a hungry tiger. "And Nate Archibald too. He brought the troll with him, I forget her name. I saw Humphrey earlier. His sister didn't come since she isn't in this school anymore. But I heard she was planning to come back. Ughh, can you imagine the guts she must have? Anyways, Serena came with Floyd Westerbank. Saw Humphrey look defeated. Floyd is definitely hotter. And then…"

Blair was only half-listening. She saw that Serena was dancing with the said Floyd and the two were probably trying to light a fire with those suggestive moves. She would not disturb them.

Her eyes then fell on Nate and Vanessa. They were dancing too but in a less rhythmic manner, preferring discussion to physical expression. Sometimes, Blair almost believed Nate really liked Vanessa but she knew Serena was always in the back of his mind. It doesn't matter how many bohemian Brooklynite Nate would date; he would always keep his eyes on Serena.

She walked to the bowls of punch, wanting to appease the dryness in her throat. Penelope and Nelly Yuki were gone to gossip somewhere and she found herself alone.

_Come on Serena. Ditch the dude and come here._

It didn't take long for Chuck to spot her and she hadn't seen him approach her until he stood behind her, his hand suddenly brushing her lower back. She recognized his seductive touch, had been too often subjected to it to forget.

"Blair." His tone was hoarse and she turned to meet his dark eyes.

He looked gaunt and slightly sleep-deprived. He wore a light green suit with a white shirt underneath and a black tie. Chuck always knew how to get into the spirit.

"Chuck." Blair replied, unable to say more.

What if he was the client? She peered into his face, trying to detect any trace of goodness in it but he looked entirely gone. He smiled tentatively but it was nothing joyful. Blair shuddered a little.

"You look stunning. Flower prints, I see. That's nice."

_Could he wish death upon someone? Why does he seem more and more filthy and why should I feel guilty about it? _

She did feel guilty. The way he looked at her, the way a starving cat looked at a lone mouse, made her feel like she was his salvation. But she couldn't be. He had made sure she wasn't when he called her a wife.

"How are you doing?" She finally asked, unable to ignore the shriek of pity coming from her insides.

She observed him carefully and he noticed it.

"I'm fine." He answered her gaze. "My new lifestyle is just a little bit too animated."

His tone was suggestive and she knew exactly of what. He spent his days sleeping around, screaming Bass Industries here and there to get more game whenever he was tired of the old one. Why wasn't she walking away then?

"No doubt it is. And I'm not a part of it Chuck. You can't come to me whenever you remember that I exist. You have chosen what you wanted, now it's time you move on. Don't keep me hanging in between two worlds. You know how I feel."

He looked at her for so long and for once, she could see a glimpse of the Chuck who had attracted her so much: the mischievous, game-playing , careless Chuck who was so different from this depressed, angsty version.

"You could just say it, you know?" Blair urged him in a soft voice, hoping to pull that Chuck out.

Chuck looked like he was about to but then, the moment was gone and he took a sip from his glass, returning to the new him. Sometimes, she even doubted it was anything new. What if Chuck had always been that guy?

"I can't. I am not that man. Not anymore."

She would have cried, had she not heard that speech before. Instead, she sealed her lips and walked away only to happen upon Rufus Humphrey. She sought Chuck with her eyes, but he was not even looking at Rufus. She found it odd. If Chuck had been the client, he would have shown it.

"Blair! Are you enjoying the dance so far?" Rufus asked her with his usual niceness. It felt like someone had tightened the rope around her neck. This man would be dead by the end of the dance.

She had to get him to drink something.

"Not quite yet. I have been abandoned by all my friends. It's hard not having a date."

He laughed nicely.

"Seems you and Dan are in the same position. But I won't force you to hang out with each other, considering you aren't friends and all that…"

She told herself to be unaffected by his niceness. She told herself to think coldly, to play it like St-John in Jane Eyre, to always think of the greater good. Except that she didn't know who the greater good was for anymore. Her? Chuck? Mr. B?

He was holding a glass of juice in his left hand and Blair tried to find a way to slip a few droplets of poison in it without being seen. It seemed impossible. They were surrounded by a crow of students. Although none of them were paying attention to the chaperone, she knew the eyes of some would be on hers. She wasn't Queen Bee for nothing.

She felt the need to contradict Rufus' words before she realized that there was nothing to contradict. It was true that she and Dan were not friends. They were acquaintances, yes, but not friends.

Blair slipped her hand in her evening purse, feeling the coldness of the Ruger Mark brush against her fingers. She let those fumble a little until they found the inside pocket, where the poison was. The vial was small and easily manageable. She let it fall into her palm and removed it from the depth of the purse. Rufus did not notice anything.

He was holding his cup down, close to his thigh. Thankfully, he was not a tall man and she was wearing high heels. Her height would be an advantage. She could easily take a step closer...

"Dan! I was just telling Blair about you two not being friends!" Rufus said, laughing gleefully. "Anyways, I have got to find Lily. I think I just saw someone spiking the bowl of mango nectar."

He finished his cup and threw it in the nearest bin, along with Blair's chances of successfully poisoning him. She watched him walk away, relieved that he had escaped but still frustrated that she could not finish it sooner. She hadn't even noticed that Dan was there until he spoke to her.

"Waldorf," he said mockingly.

Blair turned to see that he was openly admiring her outfit. She didn't understand why it made her feel so shy and self-conscious. She knew she looked good.

"Considering we're the only two among our social circle who are dateless, I think we should set our differences aside and make the best of it."

She allowed herself to check him out too. Why not?

She was surprised to find that he looked _good. _Not like the usual, I-am-wearing-a-suit-so-I-must-look-good good but something closer to grandeur. He was in a black tuxedo, with a white shirt and a purple bowtie that was almost the same shade as the flowers in her dress. His taller, stronger figure was unashamedly showing and even his curly hair was combed back so that it was almost looking acceptable. He looked elegant, like a writer at the launch of his newest book, smiling like the intellectual that he was, like he knew some sort of universal truth the sad people around him weren't aware of.

"What are you exactly suggesting?" Blair brought herself to ask, noticing that this time; she was trying hard to keep her tone as indifferent as she could.

_You're about to kill his father. Don't forget that._

"Everybody is dancing. We could give it a try." He suggested, his lips curling into a smile but his eyes avoiding hers.

"No! That's absurd. I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me to dance. You know Serena is here right? How would it look if I start dancing around with you? I'm on her team here. I don't approve of you, or of how you've treated her."

"I was merely suggesting but of course, you would make it about Serena! I wasn't even thinking of that. Besides, she's already attempting to merge her body into some other guy's on the dance floor. Won't be surprised if it actually succeeds by the looks of it."

He sounded bitter and looked towards where Serena was grinding shamelessly into Floyd. Dan wasn't the only one watching. Nate was also observing, a slight frown upon his gorgeous features. It was hard not to feel remorse. She would have danced with Nate if he had asked her and Dan knew that.

"It just feels odd, Humphrey. I can't dance with someone I can barely stand. I'm surprised you even asked me."

He frowned slightly before looking around, searching for something.

"Can I speak to you privately?" He finally said above the sound of the blaring music.

"What? Another apology to make?"

"Actually no. It's about yours."

He grabbed her wrist, his hand warm but firm and dragged her to the exit which led to the main corridor of the school. Blair let herself follow him but not without protesting all the way. As soon as they were out, he let go of her. Blair still felt the ghost of his warmth on her skin.

Nobody was outside and the corridor was feebly lit. This was where Blair's reign was carried. This was where she would walk, minions trailing behind, students watching with reverence. But tonight, it was empty except for Dan and her.

"My father told me about you going to Brooklyn and apologizing to him about what you've done to Jenny or something. Did my own apology inspire you or are you up to something?"

Blair couldn't blame him for thinking that there must be an ulterior motive but she felt hurt nonetheless.

"Believe it or not, I was actually sincere."

"So you were inspired by my apology then?" He said, smiling like a boy who had received candy.

"Perhaps I was Humphrey. I just thought that I owed it to your father. He is a good man, and even though I can barely stand you and Jenny, he doesn't deserve what I have done to you two."

Dan was listening intently, his smile fading to be replaced by a more serious expression. She noticed how his jaw would move slightly forward whenever he found himself disbelieving a situation, noticed how angular it was. It wasn't like Chuck's jaw line; his was gentler, made for a talker and debater. Chuck's was meant for being set in stone and closing deals with investors.

"Then why not apologize to us directly? To _me_?"

"You're asking too much," She scoffed. "Just appreciate what I have done. Is that so hard?"

"Coming from you, yes."

She bit down on her lip. He had a gift for annoying her.

"Whatever. I'm not in the mood to be put down by your snide remarks. I have better things to do."

Blair began to walk away when she felt his hand on her wrist again, and his heat was back on her skin like it had never left. She turned with a huff, wondering what he would have to say this time. He really was too wordy a young man.

"Thank you." Dan stated.

"Why thank me? Rufus already did. You don't have to act on his behalf."

"It's not about my father, you know it."

With that, Dan grinned and left her standing in the corridor, wondering why she couldn't feel frustrated anymore.

An hour passed during which Blair roamed about with Penelope and Nelly, never letting Rufus out of her sight. He was with Lily more often than not and she could see the two were obviously in love. On top of killing him, she would break her heart. She tried not to think of the fact that Bart had also died not long ago. Nate had offered to dance with her so she accepted but she barely enjoyed it due to the fact that the slightest opportunity could present itself at any time. Nate eventually let go of her, noticing her uncooperative humor. Dan was with Vanessa, laughing at some joke. Nate had joined them soon enough, not without throwing one last wary glance towards her. Serena was nowhere to be seen by then which made Blair think that Floyd had probably got lucky. Penelope and Nelly were rambling about the girls' dresses and the guys who accompanied them and Blair only allowed herself to join so that she wouldn't seem too distracted.

Then, the opportunity finally came. Rufus was climbing the stairs which led to the balcony area of the hall. There were rooms with large windows all around which served as club spaces and administrative bureaus. She glanced towards Dan and quickly smiled and turned away when she realized he had been looking towards her too. Blair excused herself to Penelope and slowly walked away, keeping her back straight and hoping no one would come after her. One look to the left revealed Chuck Bass surrounded with three girls, each one battling for his attention.

_Good. This one won't bother me._

Nate and Vanessa were huddled in the opposite side of the room. Dan was gone but she was sure he had gone to look for Serena. She climbed the stairs, looking straight in front of her. Poison wasn't going to work unless she held Rufus' head back and forced him to gulp it down.

It was dark and the music was still blasting. Her steps could barely be heard. The rooms were all closed and empty and as she walked along the small corridor, the sounds behind her reduced gradually. She saw that the door in the end of the corridor was also closed but there was light surrounding its frame like a halo. He must be there.

Blair was panicking inside. It felt like her stomach was carrying rocks and her heart was frantically beating. Nonetheless, on the outside, she walked calmly towards the door. Her hand went to her thigh, brushing the skirt of her dress aside to grab the combat knife.

_Alright. Knife or gun? The gun. It would be less painful for him._

The blade of her knife reflected weakly the little light from the door. She couldn't slaughter him. It would be too traumatic and she doubted she could prevent the blood from staining her dress. She should have worn black after all.

There was a noise behind her. Blair swiftly inserted her knife back in her garter before she was violently pushed into the nearest wall.

**Next chapter coming soon. I know I promised for physical action in this one, but I just forgot that there was still a lot to tell before we actually get to the action scene. It's going to be a double update for this time! I'm so nice, I know . As usual I hope I stayed true to the characters!**

**The nicest way to show gratitude would be by leaving a review, however short it is. Thank you dear readers!**


	9. Chapter 9: Fighting

**Enjoy ;-)**

Her head hit the wall quite brutally and thanks to her complicated updo, her hair absorbed some of the shock. She let out an involuntary scream. It was dark but she knew who her assailant was just from the little light available. He kept her pinned to the wall, one strong arm holding her left arm while the other was painfully pressing against her shoulders.

"What are you doing Humphrey?" She almost screamed before realizing that Rufus was close by.

She was playing the innocence card.

"I should have known that apology was bullshit!" Dan whispered angrily. "What was in your hand right now?"

"Nothing."

The pressure on her arm was increased and she knew he was serious. Her thoughts were racing and this angry, _strong _Dan was almost frightening her.

Before she knew what she was doing, she stomped on his foot with her heel as forcefully as she could and raised her other leg to kick his on the tibia. He flinched and swore which gave Blair enough room to slip away, the skirt of her dress trailing behind as she ran away from him as fast as her heels would let her.

But soon enough, he overtook her and grabbed her arm to pull her into him. Her back collided with his hard chest and she felt his arm slither around her waist to hold her against him. She was breathing fast but he wasn't. She tried extricating herself from his jail-like embrace but found herself locked in.

"I _saw _it Blair. Where is the knife?" He said against her ear.

She could say it was in her evening purse, which lay on the ground two meters away. He would go to grab it and she could run. The problem was that her gun was inside, and the poison, which in themselves were good enough to incriminate her.

Dan's other hand was patting the sides of her waist, trying to find the weapon.

"I can't believe I'm being body-searched by you. You're violating me, Humphrey. Stop it right now."

He didn't. Instead he chuckled near her neck which sent a shiver down her spine.

"I know you wish it was Chuck right now but you can just tell me where it is, or better, just hand it to me and I won't have to do this anymore."

She had hoped her plea would make him feel at least one ounce of shame but apparently he could not care less. She supposed that this would be the case when coming around someone who was about to kill your father.

His hand skipped down to her left thigh. Blair swallowed as he pushed the skirt unceremoniously aside. They were still in the dark and she felt a strange jolt of excitement as his hand made contact with her skin even if she knew that soon enough, it would come upon the knife.

"That's not very original Blair"

His voice was calm, although there was a cold, angry edge to it. Dan did not even seem to be affected by whatever his hand was doing to her. It was as if he was carrying out a routine action.

His fingers slid upward electrifying their trails until they reached the garter. He fiddled with it for a moment before he retrieved the knife in one swift movement.

"How did you know?" She asked, hating how her voice sounded so shaky as if she had been lusting after that touch. Because, come on, she couldn't be!

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith much?" Dan replied.

He dragged her backward, away from the stairs that led to the dance.

"No, not about the knife garter." Blair whispered. "About me being here."

Blair would get him to speak. Dan had always liked talking.

"I saw you go up the stairs when I came back from the bathrooms. You looked troubled and silly me, I thought Chuck had done something to you. I came after you and what do I find? You, holding a knife and my father in the next room. Tell me Blair, that's what the apology was for? You were going to kill my father but you didn't want a guilty conscience, as if killing him wouldn't be enough for that. And you accused me of being a murderer! And don't try to tell me this knife was for your own suicide attempt. We all know suicide is beneath you, just like Brooklyn apparently."

Blair grabbed the arm that was holding her by the waist and tried to push it away. She kicked one of her leg backwards. He raised one arm to hold her around the neck in order to use the other to control her leg. She bit his forearm as ferociously as she could through the jacket of his suit. He tried to keep it there but it took only the slightest movement for her to throw her head backward, hitting his chin. He was knocked backward. She turned around and tackled him down while he was rubbing his chin. He fell with a loud thud, making the corridor tremble a little. She had forgotten that this part of the school was a little less solidly constructed than the others. The knife fell out of his hand.

Blair went to take it back, finally gathering herself and leaving without leaving any piece of evidence behind. Just as she took it, she felt a violent tug at her dress and she was propelled backward directly on top of Dan's body. He wrestled her until he was the one on top of her, his two arms locking her arms out of any possibility for movement.

"You know what you did to my dress is a crime. I ordered it a week ago."

His head was hovering above hers and there was a self-satisfied, smug smile on his lips but his eyes were still cold. She shivered as her back was in contact with the glacial ceramic of the ground.

"You can afford many more I'm sure. Why were you going to murder my father? Are you on a vendetta against any lowly Brooklyn form of life that happens to cross your path?"

"Clearly not, since I haven't murdered you."

The door opened, revealing Rufus Humphrey.

"Lily?" He asked. He had obviously been waiting for her to show up. Then, the light from the room revealed the two of them and although Blair couldn't see his face due to her position, she knew that he must have been quite shocked.

"Wow. I'm sorry guys. I really didn't want to disturb. I was just waiting for Lily, ahem, we had to sort of the votes for the best dancer…"

Blair realized that Rufus thought they were…getting it on? She must have blushed and Dan's face registered the same expression.

"Dad.." Dan began but Blair used her legs to push him off. He obliged, knowing he couldn't keep her down without looking like he was taking her without her consent. She stood up, straightening her frayed dress. She saw the knife on the ground and this time, she finally took it back and made it fit forcefully inside her purse. Dan stood close by, visibly not going to let her leave easily. She made a decision.

She grabbed Dan by his shirt, placating it on the wall. He looked slightly worried, but not worried enough to her liking. He must have been accustomed to these sorts of situations. They must be everyday matter in Brooklyn.

"You listen properly Dan. If you value your dad's life and yours, you do just as I say. Get him to leave New York, probably for a year. May be he could go visit your mother, isn't that a fine idea? He should not contact Lily and he should remain on the down low. Understood?"

He nodded, looking at her with a quiet defiance. She would not have this from him.

"You don't get it, do you? This is serious. You just saved me from murdering your father. They will be angry with me, may even send someone else to do it. So unless you are not as clever as your marks suggest it, I would do what I say."

She released him. He could have overpowered her easily but he didn't. She wondered why.

"I'm sorry Mr. Humphrey. But this is nothing personal, I can swear it."

With that, she left father and son, feeling that one more word would break her. She was trembling, her arms would much likely get bruises and she wanted nothing but to get rid of her evening purse.

At least, Dorota would be proud of her.

**Alright, I hope this chapter was satisfying. It was hard to write and I am not entirely satisfied with it. I really hope you like it! I kind of like badass Blair and badass Dan. **

**Now that he kind of knows her secret, their interactions are only going to be more interesting.**

**Review if you are generous? Or even if you're not! **


	10. Chapter 10:Trust

**I was amazed at the amount of responses I got for my double update. I am becoming used to this rhythm so please do not change anything! I may give you a double update soon if I see you guys are eager for it **

**This fic started as a little fancy of mine and I never thought it would please a lot of people considering it's outside of the usual Dair fanfic conventions. In any case, I hope I will continue to please!**

'She was sent to kill my father.' Dan told Fawkes. His voice was not shaky but firm like the concrete walls of her building. He was not shaken, truth be told. He had seen worse and had fought worse adversaries than Blair Waldorf. But she was no invalid weakling and was as unpredictable as a wild cat.

Dan hadn't wanted to betray himself either by using his more efficient tackles but there was also a reluctance to genuinely hurt her. She was still Blair Waldorf, although everything that had happened in the last few hours (and also in the last few years if he thought well about it) was enough to wear off the little respect he felt for her.

He had left his father in the café, thirteen levels underneath where the lobby was. It was called _Begonias _and was the sort of place that was visited by every business man and woman around. He had told a slightly dazed and confused Rufus to stay put and well-hidden in the back while he went to talk to a "friend" of his. Rufus had barely registered his son's words but was relieved for the cup of coffee that was presented to him. Dan had figured the loft could be dangerous right now. What if some agent was there waiting to finish the job that Blair hadn't been able to accomplish? He had made sure Jenny was with Eric back at the Van der Woodsen penthouse before speeding up to Fawkes' quarters.

'Do you now have any doubt?' Fawkes replied with the same enigmatic tone Dan had always known. 'Who, but Bart Bass, would want your father dead? It's the typical response to betrayal and a man who leads a secret society has all the power to make such things happen. I should know, for I am one too, except that I try to deal with injustice rather than selfish desires.'

'I knew something was up with her the moment I saw her in Foreman's room. It just never dawned upon me that she could be a _killer._ And my father. I would never have accepted an offer to kill her mother, you know me Fawkes.'

Fawkes' seat was still turned towards the windows which gave an extensive view of New York. He could see the Empire State building a little bit afar. One of Fawkes' hands waved in the air, as if to chase away a bothersome mosquito.

'Yes, yes I know very well about that. Don't think I have forgotten that I can't assign you any mission related to the people you care about. Although I hardly see why Blair Waldorf falls in this category.'

She had a point.

'She's Serena's friend.' Dan said unconvincingly. He had no strength left to defend someone who just attempted to murder the only parent who had actually been present in his life.

'You want my honest opinion?' Fawkes said, continuing without waiting for his reply. 'I don't think she would have killed your father. From what I gather, this business with secret societies is new to her and as much as she can be a bitch, it takes a while to get used to murder.'

'She would have done it if I hadn't caught her in time!' Dan exclaimed, gesticulating all the while even if Fawkes could not see him. 'I saw her damn it!'

'It doesn't matter what you saw. The point is, she would have chickened out sooner or later.'

Dan did not answer. He thought of her countenance. She hadn't looked afraid nor compassionate.

'You can't compare her with you Dan. You and she are different. You work for different people, different motives. When _you _have to kill, you know that your victim deserved it. You're killing scum, vermin. There are no feelings to be spared for these sorts of people. But I believe Waldorf is in another kind of situation. Cercle 19 serves the whims and fancies of the likes of Basses and Archibalds. She _will _have to kill innocents and she knows it.'

'What do I do now?' He asked calmly. 'I can't kill her, that I know.'

'Yes, but you can kill Bart Bass.'

A short silence followed during which Dan loosened his tie. He knew Blair Waldorf would come for him, _really _come for him, one day. It didn't suffice for her to have targeted him and his sister since even before she knew his name. It hadn't been enough to comment on his hair, to convince Serena that he was inadequate for her, to torment his sister. No, of course. Blair had to be a hired killer too and she had to be ruthless enough to actually try to kill his father.

'She doesn't know anything about you Daniel right?' Fawkes inquired, her fingers tapping the armrests softly.

'No, I don't think so. I wrestled her down and tried my best to keep her off but I don't think that I showed my skills in any way. In any case, I could tell her I took self-defense lessons or karate. '

'She mustn't know. If you're to kill Bart Bass, you cannot afford to have her know anything. I'm afraid you are not done hanging out with her. I can predict she is to come see you very soon. Now that you are aware of her activities, she has to clear things up or beg you to keep it secret. Which you will by the way! '

He winced at the thought of having to forge this false relationship with Blair. His work with Fawkes had made him quite the better liar but he was no deceiver. He could lie to hide his activities but he could not fake a friendship, especially not with Blair. Fawkes guessed at the meaning behind his silence as if he had been screaming it aloud.

'You're going to have to. Now, I don't mean being polite and civil to her at school. I mean going places with her, talking to her, knowing what she likes best and what she hates. Blair Waldorf needs to see you as an equal, as a trustworthy friend so that she can slip up and reveal things. If not, you can be sure your father is in for a long journey.'

'It's not going to sound very believable if I become friends with her right after she tried murdering my dad.' Dan remarked pointedly.

Fawkes laughed a little, swaying sideways in her rotating chair. He could discern the tip of her nose, but nothing more.

'Take your time Dan. There is no rush.'

'And my father?'

'We'll take care of it. Go home, prepare his luggage. Bring his passport and his papers. Come back here by no later than one in the morning.'

'Thank you so much. I know it's a lot.'

'Don't go overboard. You have served us well for a good three years. This is nothing. Just bring us Bart Bass.'

His father was still at the café, his hands wrapped around a cup of caramel-topped coffee. There were a few important-looking people around who had worked late and they looked nothing suspicious. He sat down in front of him.

'Why would she do that?' His father asked with a voice so unlike his. It was empty, joyless like an abandoned back alley. He doubted that even pancakes would cheer him up.

'It's complicated but someone asked her to do it.'

'Is it Chuck?'

His father took a sip of the coffee. There was a faint jazz music playing and everything looked deceivably normal. Dan spotted a young man on his Macbook, nerdy ray-bans balanced on his nose, typing furiously on the keyboard.

_Fucking richpsters._

'The two of them have this strange relationship. I'm sure…if he had asked her. He hates me for being the one Lily chose.'

'It's not Chuck, dad. It's not him. He's an awful person but it's not him.'

'Then who could it be?' Rufus asked.

'I'm not sure yet. But we have to move ok? We have to get you out of here, keep you safe. You have to come see my friend.'

Rufus insisted he had to finish his cup. Dan didn't want to rush him. It was close to ten in the evening but the streets had no curfew in New York. The business people were busy leaving the café, each one insisting that he should pay for the other.

'I can tell you one thing dad, nobody is going to hurt you. Nor Jenny.'

He couldn't tell him that it was Bart Bass. His father believed him dead and even Dan was doubting Fawkes' words. Being wanted dead was already something. Being wanted dead by the dead husband of your lover was another which was quite more unsettling.

Dan took Rufus to Fawkes' office as soon as the coffee cup was emptied. He felt at home in this building. He knew almost everyone and they all knew Fawkes. They had never spoken of their jobs, their _real _jobs but there was a definite undercurrent of secrecy and partnership in the way they smiled and talked to each other. Dan had often wondered at how many of the people around were actual workers and how many were just like him, trained deadly killers and spies. He guessed he would never know.

He had left Rufus with Fawkes, not without having asked him where he kept his passport and other important papers. If his father had looked confused beforehand, his encounter with Fawkes in her large, spacious but also dark office had only added to his misery.

'Don't approach her. Just sit on the chair and she'll tell you everything.' Dan told him before leaving.

The door to the loft was closed and the lights were out but this did not reassure Dan in any way. He stopped to breathe it out. His hand fumbled in the pocket of his jacket until it seized the object it was looking for. It was a pocket knife of a size slightly bigger than the usual ones. It had been a gift from Fawkes after his first kill. He would always remember his first victim. She was a lady in her late thirties. Linda Theriault, a French Canadian woman who had moved to New York ten years ago to open a chic club inspired by the Parisian pleasure houses. The club was fine, a little too Chuck Bass-ish for him but it was not why Fawkes had designated her for death. Theriault had forced many of her workers into rape situations in shady hidden back rooms reserved for equally-shady clients. Some of the girls had been forced to do unspeakable things while she only paid them a small fraction of what she received. It didn't take long for one of the girls to have gone too far, a mix of drugs brought by the customers and some clumsy s and m foreplay led to a horrifying death. Linda had the body disposed of. The poor girl had no parents who cared enough and Theriault was too powerful. She allowed every sort of dealings in her club insofar as her name was kept clean. It was one of that girl's co-workers who had come to complain to one of Fawkes' undercover agent. Dan was told it was a good beginning mission. '_Women like Linda Theriault are obsessed with their power. She thinks she isn't the one who's being a criminal. She just provides the place. That's why she doesn't think someone would come after her. In her head, she's innocent.' _Fawkes had told him.

He had killed Linda in one of her private rooms with a silencer plugged in to his revolver. Then, he had left the place, hysterical tears jerking out of his eyes, the revolver reposing heavily in his pocket. Nobody had seen him. They thought he was one of the special clients Linda liked to entertain herself. He remembered the way she had called him a _Darling _for holding the door. She said she had never seen a more delightful boy in her life.

Fawkes had given him the pocket knife as a congratulation of sorts. At the time, Dan thought the present a sinister thing, a reminder of his unlawful act. For a long while, it sat in his drawer, untouched and unused, gathering the dust on its shiny metal shell. Then one day, he had decided to take it along during one of his missions for safety purposes. It turned out the knife was deadly, something Fawkes had ordered from a foreign place where such things were made. From that day on, the knife never left his pockets.

And Dan knew that even the knife would not be enough against someone armed with a gun. He unfolded the knife, observing for a millisecond the way the dim light of the corridor played on its bed. He inserted the key and in one swift movement, opened the door and turned on the lights.

There was nobody.

The ties he had struggled to choose from in the afternoon that seemed so long ago were still splayed across the couch. He walked slowly to the kitchen, checked behind the counter and found that no one was hiding there. A quick look through their rooms also confirmed that he was truly alone.

Dan quickly began fumbling through his father's clothes, selecting plaid shirts and jeans at random, almost forgetting to throw in underwear in the small luggage he found. He seized his father's passport and his wallet which he had left at home, not thinking they would be useful for a Spring Dance.

He ran to his room and took out a book randomly from his library. _Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. _

'That's too inappropriate.' Dan said to himself before returning it to its shelf. He settled on _A tale of Two Cities _which he hoped his father would enjoy during the trip.

All the while, his throat was constricted. He would never see his father sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen, reading the newspaper and awaiting their return from school. This place wouldn't be home without him.

Someone knocked on the door. Dan stopped in the middle of trying to close the luggage which was proving itself arduous due to the fact that nothing had been folding.

It had been a soft knock, almost inaudible through the noises of his movements. His hand quickly grabbed the pocket knife, unfolding it in one expert movement.

He looked through the peephole. There she stood, Blair Waldorf.

He hesitated. Was she here to apologize and explain like Fawkes had predicted? Or was she here to finish the job?

'I know you're here Humphrey.' She said in a statement.

He opened the door, revealing himself standing tall and ready.

He could see she had been crying, although her makeup had been retouched. She wasn't wearing the dress that Dan had found so beautiful before, but her usual combo of skirt and shirt. There was nothing in her hands.

He just stared at her, hoping she would understand.

'You're angry.' She said softly. 'I can understand.'

Dan just crossed his arms, refusing to answer.

'Oh, come on now. You're always talking so much and when I actually want to hear you out, you decide to shut it?

'You tried to kill my father.'

Her eyes widened a little because his tone was icy and she wasn't used to that. His own eyes bore into hers, communicating all the anger that he had set aside to concentrate on getting his father away.

'But I didn't. I don't think I was ever going to do it. Let me explain first.'

Blair walked forward, visibly thinking that she could just enter his home without preamble. He was quick to bar the way with one of his arms.

'You can explain here.' Dan said.

She nodded, probably aware that he would not be pushed to his limits. Not tonight of all nights. Dan could see two bruises on her forearms and he softened a little. He had fought her with perhaps a little too much strength and he had always tried to be a gentleman, even with his female victims. He let his arm fall down and beckoned her silently to get in. Blair offered him a small smile to which he was impassive.

She had already been there before so Dan did not have to relive her criticism of everything that she thought wrong in the loft. She knew there was a garage door that separated their rooms. She knew that the living room was charged with eclectic artifacts from his father's tours and that the sofa was a little worn out in places. He saw her observe the place nonetheless as if she had forgotten how awful it had seemed to her the first time. She took a seat on the sofa, crossing her legs like origami, making sure there was a minimal amount of her in contact with its ancient fabric.

He closed the door, the knife still in his hands. Blair saw it too.

'I see you are on your guards. I can swear I have nothing with me. No gun, no knife. If I had come here to kill you, I would have been a little more loaded. And I would be wearing something more practical.'

'What? Like an evening dress with a thigh-high slit on the side and skyrocketing heels? That outfit didn't seem to deter you from attempting murder.'

'I grant you that. But I thought I could pull it off. You know, mingle in with the crowd. It was the perfect moment to do it.'

'Yeah, about that,' Dan retorted as he approached to stand in front of her. 'why do it in the first place? What did my father do to you that was so offending? That it needed be punishable by death? Is it the fact that he subscribed us to Constance? Or that he decided to live in Brooklyn instead of gathering enough money from God knows where to live with the likes of you? Tell me, I want to know. I want to know _why _Blair.'

He knew his voice had become louder and that he must have looked agitated. To avoid looking at her, he removed his jacket which had been on him the whole time and threw it on the chair next to him. He was too hurt to look her in the eyes this time.

'It's not about your father, Humphrey! I was told to do it. It was my task, my job to kill him. It's what I'm expected to do if I want to remain in Cercle 19.'

Blair was surveying him and he thought she wanted to see understanding in his eyes.

'Cercle 19? What is that?' He asked even if he knew well what it was. 'Is that a circus?'

Blair being a Waldorf still found the audacity to huff as if he had suggested something blasphemous.

'It's French for circle. And no, it's not a _circus_. What do I look like to you? A clown? Do clowns go around murdering people?'

'Some would say that they do. There is such a thing as coulrophobia.'

'That's for the deluded and paranoid.'

'I must have been one of those clearly if I thought that even an evil doll like you would never come close to murder. I will learn to rectify my judgment.'

For a second, she looked like she was about to cry and he felt himself panic. He never dealt well with tears from members of the opposite sex. Adding his own frustration, he would hardly be able to address such a situation.

'It's a secret society.' Blair whispered, looking down at the patterned carpet. 'I was contacted to join it. It's nothing _you _would understand I guess, but I grew up wanting something like that to happen to me. Not many people are blessed with such an opportunity. It doesn't take just wealth, it takes potential. Mine was recognized finally and I was trained to become better. I knew they would ask me to kill one day or the other. I just never thought it would be your father.'

'Who asked you to kill him?' Dan said.

'I don't know.'

She seemed sincere but he could never be sure.

'You don't know?' He repeated.

'No. We are never told who the client is. We just carry the job. Then one day, when you move up, you become the one who deals with the clients. I guess I'll never be there. I failed them.'

He wasn't going to feel sorry for her.

They stayed in silence for a few minutes. The smell of coffee was hanging in the air. It was the loft's peculiar scent. His father was always making coffee and Dan knew the pot was full. He could have offered her a cup but he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't be nice to her, not yet.

'For what it's worth Humphrey, I am sorry. I was not going to kill him. I guess I thought I could be cold enough but your father is a decent man and what's more, Lily loves him. I would have flinched.'

_So that was her first kill? _It explained why she had been easier to control.

'Would have, should have, could have. I really don't know about that, do I? I want to believe you wouldn't have done it, but that's hard to do when you walked in there hiding a knife in your garters. You never liked us Blair.'

'I _know _I wouldn't. I don't care if you don't believe me. If I really wanted to kill him, I would have been on his trace right now instead of talking to you about this mess. I wouldn't have asked you to help him escape! I'm in trouble for this already!'

Her voice cracked and he could feel she was afraid. She looked so tiny and frail for a moment, almost as if she really was a doll, like those vintage ones with the sad, melancholy faces. Her hands were writhing in an endless knot and her eyes were still cast downwards.

'You're a good fighter, surprisingly.' She said, regaining some of her usual sarcasm.

His reply was ready.

'It comes with living in Brooklyn. You know, thugs and crooks at every corner. One has to learn how to defend himself.'

He smiled with equal sarcasm.

'You're not bad either.' He added. 'My arm will remember your bite for a long time.'

She laughed, apologizing for it before she quickly resumed her morose expression. They weren't at a stage where laughing could be permissible and they both were aware of it.

'Can you keep this a secret? I won't do for others to know. It could even be dangerous. I will say your father escaped. I won't say anything about your meddling. You _do _like to meddle a lot though, don't you? Never mind! I know you aren't feeling sympathetic towards my woes, but I can tell you that I am not lying when I say that it is better that no one else knows.'

He thought about it, about telling Serena. The blond would never believe it. Nor would Nate be able to. Nate had always liked to believe that Blair had changed, that she was nice at the core. Now Chuck on the other hand…He would probably like it. It would turn him on beyond his twisted fantasies.

Fawkes had said that she would come and she had also told him to gain her trust. Now he had no idea why Blair would ever think that he would _actually _agree to keep her secret. It must have been desperation. Had he not been working for Fawkes, had he been the Daniel Humphrey that he always thought he would be, he would have called the police. He thought of Bart Bass, of finding him and finally making him answer to his crimes. He thought of his father being able to come back and live with them.

'Alright, I won't say a word Waldorf. Now, I have my father to see off. But this conversation is far from over.'

He walked her out and locked the door behind him, the smell of his father's coffee still lingering in the air.

**Sorry for the long time it took to update but I'm back on track and I hope I did not disappoint. So tell me what you think of this! **

**Reviews are the fuel of my writing so please, be kind enough to leave one!**


	11. Chapter 11:Change

**Thank you so much for the reviews. Glad that **_**richpsters **_**pleased you ;-). I am so very grateful for the faithfulness you are showing to this story. I also welcome the new subscribers and I hope you will continue to stick with me.**

**I'm trying my very best to stay true to the characters even if they are trained killers as opposed of the Dan and Blair in the series. This won't be a double update but I will try for the next one to be. Of course it all depends on how much you guys want it **

**Also, I'll be dropping snippets from **_**Inside **_**(or at least, my version of **_**Inside **_**) throughout this story because I think it gives insight into Dan's feelings and how he interprets the events around him. So far, I have made him only speak of Claire (because Blair is the star of his book come on!) but I'm going to try to have the other characters featured a little.**

_If there was one person whom I could suspect of murder, it would be Claire. Years of high school trying to avoid her presence had taught me well. There was something ambiguous about her personality, like those innocent suspects in the Scream movies that are in there to misdirect the audience's guess. Claire seemed like that kind of character to me, the girl who was so spiteful and viscerally angry with the way the world was as opposed to what it should be…You could not help but think that she would step over the limit one day with her deadly Louboutins. I pictured her walking over the dead body, piercing it with her heels and pointedly wiping off the blood on her Hermes scarf, all the while humming in strange satisfaction. _

_Perhaps I dislike her too much. Like all those suspects in Scream, she must turn out to be good at one point and I will find that someone else had been bad all along. Who would that be? I wondered. Sabrina? _

He had been writing since his father had left, sitting in the airport surrounded by travelers on their way to wherever. He had taken the back of a pamphlet about touristic destinations of choice and he began scribbling down words. He remembered hugging his father, fighting the urge to cry because Dan was always the type to get sentimental.

'Take care of Jenny for me. I know she's a hard one, but I don't want to lose her to their world. Not while I'm not there to guide her.'

He had promised in a strangled tone.

'Dan, I know.' Rufus had said, looking at his son straight in the eyes.

'You know?'

'That's where the café at the other side of the city was, right?' Rufus stated.

What did Fawkes tell him?

'I didn't know how to tell you−' Dan began, not knowing exactly how he would end up his explanation.

'It's alright. You're not a murderer at least. And you work for good. I'm proud of you.'

He realized that Fawkes must have painted quite a good picture of his "work" with her. That woman was talented.

Dan couldn't answer anything, afraid to mess up what Fawkes had made him believe. Instead, he settled for another bone-crushing hug while one of Fawkes' men stood watch. Rufus had told him that he would be accompanied by that person, a graciousness of Fawkes for Dan's services. He couldn't have been happier. Or he could, but given the situation, he felt quite comforted. Having someone with his father for a while would ensure him a better chance of hiding out from Bart Bass' men.

'Where will you be going?' Dan asked.

'I can't tell. Not yet. But I will be able to talk to you by Monday. That woman, I don't know her name, she said she could organize a secure way for us to communicate.'

Dan had no doubt she could.

'There is so much…'His father began. 'I haven't paid the rent, and I have two shirts at the cleaner's. Tell Lily I went to visit family, and tell her that I love her. When the time is right of course. Oh, and there is waffle mix in the fridge. I was going to make it for tomorrow morning. Just don't forget it or else it'll turn bad. Add blueberries. I got them yesterday. God, and the gallery! I should leave Vanessa in charge…'

His father was rambling, his stress as obvious as the airport sign boards.

'Dad.' Dan stopped him. 'I will take care of it. I will take care of everything. _Everything._'

There was an awful amount of stress on the last word and it brought out understanding in his father's eyes. He knew what sort of thing he would take care of specifically although he didn't know _how_.

Dan hadn't been allowed to accompany him to the boarding so he had let himself repose on one of the hard steel benches among a couple of old people about to go on a safari. They all rocked khaki clothing and sun hats, obviously halfway into the experience. It had been close to two in the morning and he couldn't go home. He was worried and nauseous. Sleep would never come. He had called Jenny and told her that dad had gone to visit their aunt Jemma on an urgent matter. He said something about renal malfunction to shut Jenny's mouth from spluttering any more inquiries. Dan didn't overlook the fact that his sister's tone was a tad too light for his liking. No doubt she thought she could go about imitating Blair Waldorf more freely now that Rufus had gone away.

Dan couldn't leave the airport. For a long while he sat, thinking about Blair and his father but mostly about Blair. And of course, that is when he was hit with a sudden urge to write. He didn't know why he had suddenly decided to give everyone around him nicknames. Perhaps he wanted to shield them, were his story to ever see the light of day. He was leading a secret life, a double life and somehow, calling himself Dylan Hunter wasn't so far from the truth of his situation. Everyone he knew couldn't retain his or her real name either. It wouldn't make sense to him. And he had found that he wasn't the only one who was leading a double life either.

The airport was a soothing place, large and busy, filled with people who only mattered enough during the ephemeral longevity of their stay. It was the best place to lose oneself in one's thoughts and he had always been alone. _Lonely Boy. _But he had forgotten that being alone without his father would seem utterly worse. He thought he must have looked bizarre with his previously coifed hair now sticking out in rebelliously tired curls. He lacked a tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. Dan stayed nonetheless until he had thought and written enough to his liking.

His return to the loft had been spent in silence, at the back of a taxi. He had received a call from Serena and although his heart did the faintest bit of a jump at seeing her name on his screen, he was in no mood to call her back. He vaguely wondered what she could have to say to him, whether she had guessed something had happened or not. The worse was being unable to talk about it, not to her, not to Vanessa, not to his sister. No one.

Dan hadn't done much sleeping. He had recopied his writing into that notebook of his, fearing that he would lose that pamphlet before he could concretize it.

Saturday morning came and he began to move about, re-heating the coffee and adding the blueberries in the waffle batter. He made two waffles, took out the syrup and settled himself in the living room.

He chewed slowly.

_She is probably eating a croissant back at her penthouse, sipping snobbishly at a cup of espresso, skimming over the pages of the latest Vogue._

He had slightly burned the waffles and had tried to compensate for it by overflowing it with syrup. It tasted nothing like what his father used to serve them.

Jenny had finally come home around five in the afternoon. Her eyes bore heavy darkness and her mouth was glaringly red with lipstick. He thought she had come home to stay with him, perhaps discuss a little what aunt Jemma was going through (it was all fictitious but she didn't need to know) but Jenny had other plans. As soon as she walked in, she had gone straight to her room, saluting Dan on her way.

'There is some waffles left if you want!' Dan called out.

'Can't stay to eat. Gotta go.'

She emerged from her room with black tights on, a grey mini dress with studs around the hip area and shoes that looked like a cross between motorcycle boots and high heels. The dress had been one of her own creations, something she had made long ago, pricking every finger over the application of the studs. He had never thought the thing could look trashy, until she had worn it of course.

'Where are you going?' He called after her.

'Out with Eric.' Jenny answered vaguely as she closed the door behind her.

It was already happening and he was again left alone.

Night came upon him. Jenny hadn't come home yet. It was almost ten.

Serena called and this time he answered, partly because he welcomed the distraction.

'Hi.' He said.

'Hi. Umm, how are you doing? I called you yesterday. You left the dance early.'

It was a statement, not a question. So he replied with the same.

'You noticed.'

Dan was not ready to forget the she had rubbed that stupid guy on his face. It was exactly what he had expected of her but it hurt nonetheless. She had chosen a Nate Archibald lookalike, a light-haired blue-eyed movie-smile dude who told jokes that were easy to laugh at.

"Yeah, I did. You didn't bring a date.' Her tone was now accusatory, as if she had expected him to act just like her, to bring someone as a make-believe that he had moved on. Dan was not the type to jump the train quickly. He lingered in his feelings and wallowed in what had been, what could have been and what could be salvaged.

'Why does it matter?' Dan asked.

He was beginning to be annoyed. He had thought this call would be civil, their first real interaction since the breakup but he was almost going to lose it.

'It doesn't. I just thought you would, that's all. I mean, you know why we weren't working. I just thought there might have been someone else.'

'Serena,' And here he really tried to control his tone for fear of sounding too harsh. 'you know me. I didn't lie to you and I would never see someone else behind your back. It's just a pity that you can't believe it.'

'You should have made me believe it Dan. You should have told me what was going on. You should _tell _me. What am I supposed to make out of it if you're always too busy, always leaving to go off somewhere else!'

He waited patiently till she stopped.

'There is nothing going on. Look Serena, I loved you and yes, I still and maybe I'll always do. But it's clear that right now, we're better off without each other. I don't think I can sit through another session of you throwing accusations at me. We went there already; we broke up so let's leave it to that. So unless you called me for other reasons, I think I'm going to bed now.'

Serena was silent and he felt a pang of satisfaction at having hit her with the right words. The truth is that he had been ready to move on, to become her friend or even her brother during the time where Rufus and Lily's liaison was becoming more serious. Of course, this time was gone but he had hoped nonetheless to grow used to being around her without feeling his heartbeat flutter. It wasn't going to work if she insisted on showing off a new arm candy with the obvious purpose of making him jealous.

'I just thought you might have been sick or something.' Serena said in a small voice and he could distinguish the concern in her voice. 'I'm sorry; I shouldn't have called to say that.'

'No, I'm sorry.' He really was. 'I'm a bit on edge right now. You're right in your guess. I'm not feeling well but it'll pass. Thanks for asking.'

'You're welcome.' She replied. 'And Dan? I really hope we can be friends.'

'Me too.'

Jenny had returned home on Sunday morning. By then, Dan had lost it. She looked positively wasted, all the mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow smudged around her eyes like a badly painted watercolor piece. It was Eric who had accompanied her to the door, apologizing heavily for the mess that hung around his arms. He said he hadn't known where Jenny would take them and when Dan had asked, he had preferred to keep quiet.

So Jenny had crashed on her bed, boots and dress still on. He knew he would get no answer from her until late in the evening.

Dan sat in the living room, needing a friend that would not come.

_Vanessa would not understand, although she would be more likely than any of the others. She hates them._

Vanessa was always high on justice. She despised the people who had become his friends, despised their money and their utter lack of concern for what goes on at a little as a meter away from the borders of their world. Oh, she was not wrong to harbor such feelings. Dan, after all, dealt with the exact type of conceited scum that Vanessa was up against whenever she had the time to go protesting around in the streets. He had somehow stopped to accompany her a long time ago due to meeting Serena. The blonde had taken all his time and focus so that he easily forgot about the issues of the world. However, he did not feel guilty. For one, he had been reestablishing justice through his mission and while he was no Bruce Wayne, he felt he had been doing his part too.

And he was not done with Blair Waldorf, far from it. By Sunday evening, his anger for her had quite dissipated. It was then replaced by curiosity. She was quite the character and for as long as he had known her, he could safely say that she was interesting in those rare moments where she put the fact that he was from Brooklyn aside. Once, he had done something that he still couldn't comprehend. Perhaps it had been impulse or just the need to assess if his Constance nemesis could be better in writing than he was. Or maybe he had just been curious. Dan was among the few students of Constance who had any interest in literary competitions. There had been a book club, a short-lived thing that had gathered about five members before the Constance board decided to decimate it in order to enlarge the club space of the sports teams. The club had been directed by one of Dan's favorite teacher, Derrick Lance, who had required them to critique the various literary works they came upon. Sometimes, he would ask them to write a review or a short essay on a particular theme that stood out to them. At other times, he would give them a creative assignment, Dan's favorites of course, where they had to come up with poems or short prose inspired by the books they read. It hadn't been a competitive thing much but it had helped Dan to build more confidence in his writing. Derrick had particularly praised his re-invention of _Pride and Prejudice _into a modern, Constance version of the classic. Needless to say that he had based the whole story on Serena and him but his teacher didn't need to know that.

Derrick had spoken of the essay competition vaguely, three months ago (long after the destruction of the book club) when Dan had gone to see him to his office about University application. His teacher had been intent on him joining. He said it was an interscholastic competition with the winner receiving the honor of having his essay read by James O'Neal (a famous professor at Harvard who specialized in rhetoric and critical thinking) in one of his public lectures on top of a cash prize and a special mention in the school's hall of fame. Mr. Lance had wanted him to join, afraid that nobody else would be interested in representing Constance. He remembered the topic.

_Discuss the importance of the "Other" in the modern society. What do you think is considered alien? How much are we affected by what we do not know and how have contemporary writers represented it in their work? Choose any two authors whom you think address the issue well._

Dan would have loved to try his hand, had it not been for a particular mission who had taken up most of his time. You see, he was busy trying to coax a wealthy Englishwoman into admitting that her company used enslaved children for the manufacture of her clothing collections. That had been hard work for he had had to seduce the lady first and actually _date _her behind the back of her old grey-haired billionaire of a husband. He had felt dirty for her touches and kisses, although they had never gone beyond that. He had played the curious intellectual all the while, had actually read extensively about business and commerce on International grounds in order to keep his cover as a commerce undergraduate strong. One recording of their conversations after what had seemed to Dan like the millionth date, had finally betrayed her. The client who had ordered the job from Fawkes was a competitor designer, who due to the fact that he had to manufacture most of his clothes in America, was having a hard time to get profitable revenue.

"_So this had nothing to do with eradicating injustice?" Dan had asked Fawkes. "This client obviously only cares about eliminating his competitor, children slaves be damned!"_

"_Perhaps." Fawkes had replied. "But it serves our purposes nonetheless. D'une pierre, deux coups."_

He hadn't understood the French but he had accepted the mission nonetheless.

Consequently, he had no time to even attempt to answer the essay question although he had thought about it once in a while; browsing mentally all the works he had read that could have been appropriate. A month after his encounter with his teacher, Dan had decided to visit his office again, this time to get insight on one of his short story. Twenty minutes of babbling had gone by before Mr. Lance mentioned the competition.

'_You'll be happy to know that I didn't need you after all, Daniel'_

'_Need me? What do you mean?'_

'_For the essay competition. You already forgot about it? And I was so sure that you would have been thrilled. Serves me well for trying.' had said with a smile._

'_Oh!' Dan replied. 'Yes, I didn't forget. I was just extremely busy and I wish I could have done it. So does that mean that you found other participants?'_

_His teacher had a smug smile on his face. _

"_I have had three participants, which is more than enough considering the average student in this establishment always seems to have better things to do than writing essays.' He stopped to look pointedly at Dan.' You know Felicia Zheng and Adam Horton from the book club. Their essays were particularly delectable but it's the third participant who managed to win.'_

Felicia and Adam had been the only other two who could have offered any competition had Dan decided to try his hand. He had known them from the book club and they counted among the rich kids who actually cared, although they had not been very friendly at first.

'_Who is that?' Dan asked, genuinely surprised that someone else at school had shown interest._

'_Blair Waldorf. I teach her this semester. Such a sweet girl. Her essay was incredible'_

_Sweet girl? Incredible essay? Dan had a hard time believing it._

'_She discussed Fitzgerald, Williams and Miller all in one. I had a nice chat with her and she is a particularly avid fan of The Glass Menagerie.'_

'_What was the "Other" she dealt with?' Dan asked in disbelief._

'_She discussed the class system, picturing the poor and middle-class man as this representation of the other. I think that she nailed the point of view, considering she come from a wealthy family.'_

And so Dan had gone to the lecture, arriving purposefully ten minutes late and wearing one of the hats that his sister and Blair hated so much. He had taken a seat at the back and was prepared to listen carefully because he _was _curious. His ego was piqued. He regretted not having entered the competition. He had been certain that he would have beaten her, that his essay would have been something he did better than her. But most of all, he was curious.

But after having listened to the professor reading his nemesis' essay, Dan was not so certain anymore. It had been a good essay, a tad bit Blair Waldorfy but that is exactly what had made it good. The essay had not attempted to show class inequality. Instead, she had made a commentary about being who she was and seeing the others as beings she could not understand. She hadn't apologized for her judgment, nor her behavior or the slight tone of superiority in her words, which is what had made it a thrilling read.

He had applauded along with the others. She had gone on stage (he had immediately buried himself lower in his seat) to accept the congratulations. Dan saw that she was looking around the crowd, trying to discern a familiar face. There was a fleeting expression of disappointment at having recognized no one. This was the second time that Dan had felt bad for Blair, the first being their encounter in a corridor after having realized that her mother had chosen Serena over her for that stupid photo shoot. Dan had known his father would have been there.

He had never told anyone that he had gone to that event. It was one of those secret experiences one leaves to himself. He had learned about Blair so much during that lecture, much more than he had ever during their brief meetings at school. She was no more just a spoiled Upper East Side doll. She was an _intellectual _spoiled Upper East Side doll and that had helped to raise her slightly higher in his esteem.

And sitting in the dark living room, Dan was still curious about Blair. He didn't particularly like her, but he was intrigued in her person. She had such an ambiguous personality, he could not help it. She was the sort of person who would make a great protagonist in a book, if only he could find out more.

Monday at school.

Dan showed up because he needed the distraction more than anything else.

He saw her across the corridor before she saw him. She was flanked by her two minions but she was not speaking to them. He thought he would act the usual: walk by, pretend not to see her, reply with a snarky comment if she decides to criticize anything. His hand was fiddling with the blade of his pocket knife in his pocket.

They crossed each other and even though he had told himself not to look, it had been useless. His eyes flitted to her face, finding hers already on his. Her lips broke into a small smile, almost too discrete for him to have noticed it. It wasn't a sarcastic smile, nor condescending 'get out of my face' smile. It was just the sort of smile that two acquaintances might give each other when meeting up unexpectedly. Penelope and Yuki did not notice it, nor did they notice his own smile as a response to Blair's.

**Alright people! That was one long update! You should give me nice long reviews. Not that I am forcing you to but it would be greatly appreciated. Again, shout out to those who have always kept the reviews coming. I cherish all of you.**

**Now, I decided to incorporate the whole essay competition thing in my fic as I think is a central point to the Dan and Blair saga even if the writers of Gossip Girl only show it as a fleeting thing in Dan's book. It has a lot to do with Dan feeling challenged by Blair even when he had no romantic feelings for her and I think it's significant. So I hope I did it well. Of course, it won't remain a secret. Blair is bound to know that he did attend the lecture **

**Otherwise, I hope I have stayed true to the characters, as always and it would be nice to hear your comments dear readers!**


	12. Chapter 12: Messages

**I thank all those who have reviewed. You know I keep writing this fic because of you right?**

**Okay, and I admit, I enjoy writing for myself too. But getting reviews is also something I enjoy.**

**Alright, here we go for Blair's point of view **

'Miss Blair.' Dorota whispered on Monday evening. Her hand was clutching the phone, covering the receiving end with the left one.

'It's Mr. Ludovic.' Her maid stated with her eyes as large as teacups. Just seeing her like that made Blair's panic level rise quite significantly and she had often wished for a maid who was less prone to dramatize. There was only room for one drama queen and that was Blair herself.

She had not called Ludovic, nor had she answered his attempts to speak with her for obvious reasons. This was the second mission she had failed and she had needed the time to figure out what to tell to her superior.

'Give me the phone.' Blair answered.

'Hello.' She tried to control her tone. Blair wanted to sound a little angry and disappointed. If you are angry first, your interlocutor would be most likely to control his own frustration.

'Blair,finally! I was afraid you might have died in the process. Not that I expected someone like Rufus to put up any sort of significant fight.'

There was a moment of silence.

'You did kill him right?' Ludovic asked calmly.

'No! He escaped.' Blair said with feigned anger.

She could have said that his son, Dan Humphrey had been the one to put up quite an effective fight, preventing her from ever reaching her target. But Blair did not want to involve Dan in any way.

'He escaped?' Ludovic stated in disbelief. 'Alright, he escaped. He escaped, that's perfectly understandable. What's not understandable is that you left him room to escape. We trained you at shooting for a reason, you should be able to aim pretty well, especially if you're target is close to you. And I should think Mr. Humphrey is not a highly trained ninja.'

'I know! You think I don't know all this! Look, as I have said last time when I failed Foreman, I'm the one who's more upset here. I'm the one who failed a second time!'

"Oh, there is no questioning that Miss Waldorf'

When Ludovic called her Miss Waldorf, it usually didn't announce great things.

'You should be angry with yourself. If you weren't, I am not sure if your place in Cercle 19 would be guaranteed.'

Dorota had come back to the room after overhearing Blair's loud exclamations.

'Look, you will need to have an audience with Bill. This is beyond my realm.' Ludovic finally said as if to end this discussion for good.' You should better prepare your story.'

It took Blair a while to regain her composure. Her maid surprised her with a hug, wordless but still so significant to Blair. She had cried before. For one, just after visiting Dan on Friday, her eyes had given up and let the lachrymal glands do as they wished. It was seeing Dan, this person she had never really cared about, look at her as if she were an abject little thing that had first triggered it. She had controlled herself nonetheless throughout the talking, hating to be seen crying by Brooklyn Boy in his loft nonetheless. Yet, as their conversation had progressed, Dan had softened up and that had been enough. He was too great a person, just like Rufus and that had only magnified the horror and immorality of what she had been about to do.

'I'm a horrible person.' Blair finally whispered against Dorota's thick shoulder.

Dorota patted her back rhythmically, the way she had always done it whenever Blair was upset.

'No,' Dorota finally answered. 'Horrible person would have killed Mr. Humphrey. You chose right. You are good Miss Blair. If you believe it, you will be better.'

'What kind of cheering up speech is that?' Blair chuckled but hugged her maid tighter. 'I can't just believe that I'm better. Not after what I have done these past few years. That's including doing Chuck Bass.'

Dorota loosened Blair's arms from around her in order to look into her face.

'If you regret Chuck Bass, then why you love him?' Dorota asked seriously.

It made Blair stop and think. She had never reveled in loving him, had never told herself that it had been worth it, that the little moments they have shared had been enough to keep her going. There was only one thing in her mind when it came to Chuck and that was determination. It was as if all her feelings for him revolved around that concept. She was determined to keep loving him, determined to have him love her, determined to hear the words from his mouth…In all, she was determined to make this bizarre, twisted relationship of theirs become something potable and worth all the misery she had been through.

'I can't help it.' Her voice sounded so tiny, like a mouse. Not that Blair had ever seen one in reality. Those things didn't exist in her world. 'It just sucks. When I think about Chuck, I feel like I have a double personality disorder. One side wants to love him. Well no, one side actually loves him. And the other side screams that I should have more self-respect, that my dignity does not allow me to tolerate him. It fluctuates and depending on my mood, one of the two is stronger than the other…Dorota, with this killing business and Chuck, it's my self-respecting side that is winning. I feel utterly despicable.'

'This is not about Mr. Chuck.' Dorota started.

'Yes! In the end it always goes back to him. He is the reason why I am in Cercle 19 in the first place. I wanted to get over him and prove to myself that I was better than all this. And I have strong reasons to believe he is the one who required the kill in the first place. It makes sense. God, I can't believe that son of a bitch!'

'This is not about Mr. Chuck.' Dorota repeated. 'Is about you. You are beautiful, smart girl, Miss Blair. You don't need Mr. Chuck or Circle 19−'

'Cercle 19' Blair corrected.

'Ok, sorry. _Cercle _19. But you don't need this. I remember you as child. You were bossy, confident and Mr. Nate said he liked that, that he knew you would become great lady. Like Hilary Clinton or something Thatcher.'

'Make it Thatcher. She actually did become a prime minister.' Blair said with a small smile. 'Wait, Nate knew about those ladies when he was a child? That seems unbelievable.'

'No, I added names to cheer you up. But he said you will become great lady, that is true! I also believe it.'

'Thank you Dorota. For being here when I need you and even when I don't.'

Dorota's eyes sparkled with emotion.

'By the way, how are you doing with _your _missions? Are you just my assigned helper? Because if that's the case, you are failing miserably!'

'No. Mr. B said I too loud for great missions and move like elephant. But he asked for my ears. So I keep them open in the right time and right place. I hear information for him. Last time at Mrs. Lily party, I heard Florence Calder speak in low voice about pulling investments from Mr. Chuck company. Mr. B said I did great job and gave me week off.'

'I'm thoroughly speechless. You're doing much better than I am. Go, before my fit of anger burns your apron off.' Blair pushed her away playfully.

Her maid only smiled smugly and curtseyed, lifting her apron like an aristocratic lady before leaving her room.

Ludovic called later that night to tell her that Mr. B would see her on Friday evening.

The thought of confronting that faceless man with the iceberg tone put her in a restless state of mind. Usually, Blair never feared anyone. The only reason why Ludovic could be fearful to her was because he was linked to Mr. B. Otherwise, there was many things Blair could have said about his nose-turned-upwards French attitude (which mirrored her own but that was a thing she was not willing to admit) and his burning sarcasm.

Tuesday morning, at school.

Blair was trying to appear attentive as Mr. Lance was explaining the different kinds of imagery present in _Jane Eyre_. Many of her peers had not started reading the book yet and it was easily noticeable from the way their copy of the novel looked barely disturbed. A lot of them, including Nate who sat next to her, would probably seek the services of Sparknotes or the school nerds like Nelly Yuki who would literally do anything to get attention.

Blair had read _Jane Eyre _a long time ago, in grade eight. Following the fame that _Twilight _had engendered, there had been a rebirth for Emily Bronte's _Wuthering Heights_, which had caused quite a few overeager fans to jump the considerable gap between tween fiction and English Literature classic to try out something a little more outside of their usual tastes. Blair had never read _Twilight_. For one, Penelope had been reading it and even though she was Blair's subordinate, she knew her enough to predict what kind of lowly novels would appeal to her. There was also a need to keep appearances. Blair couldn't actually read a book that one of her minions got her hands on first. It felt like her affluence would diminish. So as Blair was walking around the bookstore, she noticed that the _Twilight _area (for they had reserved one huge space decorated in black, red and white just for those books) had contained some reprinted, visually more appealing copies of _Wuthering Heights_. The name Bronte hadn't been entirely stranger to her for she had grown up with a mother who was fond of classics. That was how Blair had picked up the book. Needless to say that Penelope had not bothered reading _Wuthering Heights._

It hadn't taken long before Blair got around to Emily Bronte's sister. _Wuthering Heights _had been a great read and to this day, Blair still cherished the kind of menacing love that Heathcliff possessed for Catherine. It had been her favorite for a long time but it was just now, as she re-explored _Jane Eyre _in class with her teacher that she learned to love it best. She had been perhaps too young to comprehend the undercurrent of intellectual understanding that flowed beneath the surface of Jane and Mr. Rochester's relationship. In eighth grade, nobody could blame her. She doubted she would ever find her own Rochester which often caused her to sigh sadly after each reading of the novel.

The bell rang and it was time for the first break. Blair smiled cordially at Mr. Lance before making her exit, followed by Nate who somehow had to make a request.

'Blair, do you have a minute?'

"For you Nate? Always.'

Nate looked impeccable, as was his usual. His uniform did not display any form of extravagant addition a la Chuck Bass who always liked to switch around his ties and cardigan. Nate was a man who liked uniforms and conformity. He was always dressed the proper way. She smiled upon seeing that he had finally stopped wearing his hair slicked back like he belonged to the cast of _Grease. _Blair had told him many times that it was just plain ridiculous.

'It's about Vanessa.' Nate started. 'Could you tell that Penelope girl to leave her alone? Last time at the Spring Dance, they literally wouldn't stop with the comments. I know you don't like her either, but at least you're classy.'

Blair giggled a little at the compliment. It seems Nate was her biggest fan.

'It's not funny Blair!' Nate exclaimed. 'They threw the entire content of the punch bowl on her dress.'

'I wasn't laughing at that!'

'Then what were you laughing at?' Nate inquired, looking entirely confused.

'Never mind.'

'So are you going to talk to Penelope? And the other one too, what's her name?'

Blair held the silence a little, pretending to be thinking the idea through. Nate looked at her like she was a football player about to reach the touchdown zone at three seconds before the end of the game. She had close to no regard for that troll he dated and she even wished she could have witnessed the scene but that is something she couldn't tell Nate. Nate was a sweetheart; it was almost too painful to see him date Vanessa Abrams.

'I'll see what I can do.' Blair finally answered causing him to sigh in relief. _God, he really didn't think I would do it! _'Where are you off to now?'

'I'm going to meet Dan. We have class after this break and I'm going to try not to abuse of his brain cells. I've been doing so badly in History. Last test, I confused all the questions on Britain with France so I put Napoleon everywhere. The worse is that the questions weren't even from Napoleon's era!'

That was the typical Nate. It would be a lie to say that Blair hadn't been thinking of Dan almost once every hour of every day. Her curiosity was only enhanced by Nate mentioning him and she was reminded that their conversation had been far from over. Apart from being curious, she was also surprised. She had always thought that Dan and Nate's friendship stemmed from Nate's relationship with Vanessa and that it only brought the two boys together occasionally. To know that Dan was helping him with his school work made it sound as if this was no superficial matter. Surely, Nate was still primarily Chuck's friend right?

'So Dan is helping you?' Blair asked. 'I didn't think he was good at History unless it is at 'having a history' with Serena.'

'Very funny. Believe it or not, that guy is a genius. He totally aced the test I did so miserably on. He wrote so much to answer the questions that the teacher gave him five bonus marks! Isn't that crazy? In the end, his mark was thirty out of twenty-five. I don't think I ever saw that in my life.'

'Interesting. Be sure to tell him I say hi.'

Blair tried to keep her tone light. She really did. Yet, even if Nate was one of the most unperceptive people she could think of, he knew her enough to frown from suspicion.

'Why?' He asked, genuinely surprised.

Her attention was duly focused on the content of her Marc Jacobs' tote as she searched for something, anything that would justify her adverting eyes. Then, she found her Blackberry. She had five messages which was good enough to keep her from looking at Nate straight in the face.

'I'm just being classy Nate.'

Blair didn't see Dan which had somehow made her feel both relief and disappointment. She wanted to reiterate her apology even if it seemed too pushy. Frankly, she had no idea what kind of angry Dan was like. Blame it on the lack of effort she put into actually getting to know him. Serena was the sulking type. She would make all sorts of faces until she got what she wanted. Chuck was just like his father, a mix of sneer and coldness and yet, occasionally he would explode. Nate was a little bit like Serena, although he forgave easily in no time. But Dan? She had no idea and given the scenario, Blair could hardly figure it out.

It wasn't until Thursday that Blair finally saw him. She was walking in the corridor leading to the outer cafeteria. For once, Penelope and Nelly had decided to find something to do together instead of showering Blair with their irrelevant blabbering. She barely reached the double doors when someone seized her arm and pulled her to the Side. Now, the Side wasn't just a space that happened to be on the side of the doors. The Side was actually a generally well-known corner at Constance. It was located underneath the large staircase leading to the top administrative floors that could be accessed only from the front of the school. Basically, the space was vast but shielded from the view of others by the useless presence of wooden panels that the school's janitor had been ordered to install since someone had anonymously complained of illicit trade activities going on in there. One of the panels had been put down, leaving enough room for one person to slip through. The janitor had not shown any endeavor to fix it and since no one had complained a second time, the Side remained very much frequented by whoever found it appealing.

Blair herself had never been in there. It was the corner of horny couples and substance dealers, things that never agreed with her. It was somehow strange to be introduced to it by Dan Humphrey, who looked like he was far too weak for drug dealing and far too common looking for getting lucky with a girl on school ground.

'I kept expecting you to visit or call but I'm guessing one apology is already something I should be thankful for.' She heard Dan say.

His uniform was a little wrinkled, like he hadn't had the time to iron it. His tie was missing. They were standing about thirty centimeters apart and from that distance it was easy to notice the dark circles under his eyes.

'I'm…I'm sorry.'

Right. That wasn't how she had wanted to sound.

_Was he still angry? It's so hard to tell! He must be. I tried to freaking kill his dead._

'But I'm sure you could have dragged me somewhere else Humphrey! Do you know what people would think if they saw me out here? _With you_?'

She immediately regretted saying that. There was a swift shadow on Dan's face which did nothing to improve his slightly sallow hale.

'Look, I'm sorry−'

'Cut down on the empty sorrys, okay? You didn't like me before you attempted to murder my father so there is no reason why you would after. I didn't drag you here for chit chat.'

Blair looked around the place. She had vaguely seen the Side from afar when the wooden panels had not yet been put up. It had looked shady and sinister before. It still looked the same. There was no one and nothing but a small window that gave off a few rays of uncertain light that were too weak to reach the area under the slanted roof that covered the outside staircase. It was so dark over there, Blair thought it could possibly hide five people from anyone's view. There were writings on the walls and the roof, dirty things and phone numbers for sexual services from girls who probably knew nothing about their name being there. This was where all the tramps went to get revenge on their friends.

'Alright, let's hear it out then.' Blair said, assuming business-like tone.

'This is the only place that would be shielded enough. I could have taken you to the library but that would have been a long drag.'

'I would have preferred the library to this frankly. You could have just asked. How did you even know I would pass by here? And without Penelope?'

'You always meet Serena in the cafeteria outside and I saw Penelope and the other one somewhere on the third floor talking to some new student. If I'm not mistaken, they were asking her 'nicely' to stay away from some guy. And by nicely, I mean throwing the entire content of her bag on the floor. I've been there and you should really reconsider what you guys think is being nice.'

'I wasn't part of that one. I swear!' She cried out defensively.

Dan gave her the most disbelieving look she had ever received in her whole life. Even her father's stern eyes, when she had lied after breaking the Baccarat chandelier in their old house, could not even compare.

'Yeah whatever. Alright, we don't have much time before the stoners come. I heard they chose Thursday to make their deals.' He saw Blair's questioning look and continued. 'Well, they always pick a different day so that nobody busts them you know? Anyways, that's not the matter. What is going to happen to my father?'

Blair had expected this question. Yes, she had expected it. But she had no answer.

'What do you mean?' She replied, hoping to buy herself some time.

God, she hoped the stoners would actually come.

'I mean that I don't really want my father to be wandering around the world indefinitely. You haven't told me enough about that…that business of yours and I have a right to know. I need to understand what my father is running from.'

'Where is he?' Blair asked. She really wanted to know and believe that he was out of danger.

'None of your business. You seriously think I would tell you that. Years of scheming should have made you an expert not a naïve little girl.'

'Oh yes! I was asking so that I could report to my superior who will send quite a fair number of black suits to trace your father and bring him his head. Not to say that I also purposefully did NOT kill him so that I could take this alternative instead!'

'The coward's way. You didn't want to actually _do _it so you dumped the mission on someone else. It's a classic.'

He was really unnerving her. She walked away from him, crossing her arms and sneering her contempt. That was why she preferred to be a bitch. Being nice gets you nowhere.

Dan was silent, thinking that it was her turn to say something.

_He can wait. I'm not opening my mouth for this insufferable ass._

Instead, she decided to focus her attention on the wall art. There were a few male genitalia here and there which she found positively crass. The biggest one was near the window and looked so deformed it may have been a female's.

'Blair, I'm talking to you.' He repeated behind her.

A few seconds passed by during which she leisurely read some of the lovely messages.

_I hate Daniella. She is a **** and has no boobs._

Blair agreed on the first part. Daniella had after all been after every guy who cared enough to look at her. She couldn't say she didn't hate her since it was no secret that Chuck Bass had been there and done that too.

'Alright.' Dan said. 'I think I was unfair. You're not a coward. What you did to save my father is the opposite of cowardice.'

She had been bent on giving no answer but his soft tone was everything but answer-proof.

'I still actually thought that I could do it. That's what I'm sorry for and no, these are not empty apologies. I wouldn't waste those on you.'

She kept her back to him stubbornly, not wanting to face him in what she was beginning to realize was a sincere exchange of words between the two of them. This was not to say that she hadn't been sincere during her first apology, but the emotion at the time, both from her and Dan had made it difficult to think clearly. She heard him walk towards her and his steps were hesitant. His sigh indicated he was just as uncomfortable as she was but that somehow made the encounter more bearable.

'I just need to know.' Dan said somewhere close to her and his proximity took her back to their fight at the Spring Dance. Dan had touched her and if she hadn't known better, Blair had been a tad aroused.

Of course, it didn't have anything to do with Dan. She hadn't dated anyone after Marcus and the lack of activity had made her quite needy. Any guy who touched her like Dan had done would have raised the same kind of response and therefore, Blair had classified the matter as solved.

She still felt nervous nonetheless at having him stand by her side, his shoulder a few inches from hers.

'It can be done.' Blair replied, deciding that he deserved the truth. 'I have your number. I will contact you when we can meet. Serena, Nate and all the rest…they can't know. It wouldn't do much for the matter to remain a secret if we are seen together.'

'You have my number?' Dan inquired, looking at her sideways.

His eyes were tired as if they had been emptied from life but the grin on his face somehow made him seem a little more joyful.

'Well yes. You were Serena's boyfriend and I needed to have your number just in case. I was planning to give you a good yelling when you two broke up but I haven't found the time.'

'Right. We broke up like three times now. Still got no phone call from you.'

Blair laughed, taking care not to be too loud. The place had echo and she didn't want a passerby to guess her presence. She found she couldn't look him in the eye so she let herself read some more gruesome insults from the wall. That's when her eyes fell on her own name.

_Blair Waldorf is a first class bitch. What the fuck is Nate doing with her unless she agreed to…_

Blair gasped quite loudly at what the rest of the message read. It was horrible and as dirty as Chuck's hobbies. There was a rush of anger and humiliation that reached everywhere in her body and Dan did not fail to notice the sudden change of expression on her face.

'What's wrong?'

'Who wrote this?' Blair pointed the offensive message. 'Tell me who wrote this. You seem like you're a regular of this place, so tell me!'

'Wow. Calm down. It's just a stupid message.' Dan said but his eyes widened after finishing the read. 'Okaaaaaay. This person really doesn't like you, I guess.'

'This isn't amusing Humphrey!'

'Oh come on now. You didn't think you could go around harassing people without driving some of them to commit such acts? Besides, this isn't the only one about you here. You're quite the favorite topic.'

There was a ball of emotion lodged in her throat that only intensified from hearing that there wasn't only one of these messages.

'If you hate Blair Waldorf draw a bar!' Blair read aloud.

This one message was on the adjacent wall and there were at least a good thirty bars around it.

'To be fair, I'm sure the author of this one probably drew half of them. If not more.' Dan offered as a way to ease the blow.

She was silent because there was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to curse and to scream. She wanted to identify every single one of these offenders and give them a real reason to hate her. Too bad none of them had left a name.

'Stoners should be here any minute. We better get out unless you want to answer their questions. They usually don't care who you are but God they love to investigate things beyond their understanding.'

They left the Side to walk down the corridor, which was empty because the weather was too good for anyone to stay inside. Blair had forgotten about meeting Serena. Her steps resonated along Dan's, the only sound they could hear. She was still quiet, pondering over what she had just read.

'Look,' Dan started awkwardly. 'People always hate those who are in a position of power, even if they are good rulers. Now, you're not typically one of the good ones but still. You can either be feared or be loved right? You chose to be feared, so assume it. None of these people ever thought you would read this and none of them ever will say it to your face. I guess that means you're doing something right.'

With that, he nodded curtly before leaving her for the library.

She couldn't explain the smile that was playing on her lips but she wasn't as angry anymore.

**Alrighty Dairlings. That was my update. Moving slowly as I said I would and I hope that doesn't deter you from enjoying this fic. I enjoy writing the build up much more than the actual romance.**

**Also, I felt like I needed to mention **_**Jane Eyre**_**. It's my favorite book of all time and I somehow feel like it could be one of Blair's. The novel had the passion that Blair obviously enjoys in romance but it also includes a strong female protagonist and a great relationship based on intellectual compatibility. While she could very well desire a Heathcliff during her earlier years (who I come to identify as Chuck Bass as a parallel) I think Blair is really looking for someone like Mr. Rochester. For one, like Jane in the book who is against the union of Mr. Rochester and Blanche Ingram, she always disapproved of Dan and Serena because she believes they are not compatible and sees that Dan deserves better. There is so much more parallels between Dan and Blair and Jane and Rochester but I don't want to write a huge paragraph. Plus, if you haven't read **_**Jane Eyre **_**I highly recommend it. Or watch the BBC 2006 adaptation, it's beautiful!**

**Anyways, comments, reviews, ramblings are all welcome! Please, don't hesitate to leave me one! I live for feedback!**


	13. Chapter 13:Killing

**Hello dear readers. Thank you for the constant reviewing. It helps a lot. I'm not yet ready for a double update as I want to leave it for some important event in the story that will be coming later. But this chapter will be long, as I always try to do. I know how annoying it is to read updates that are too short and have to wait for the next ones. This may be a little graphic so you are warned.**

**Blair's pov again here. Oh, and keep reviewing!**

'This is highly disappointing.' The cold voice uttered. 'From all of the nineteen people we recruited, you were the one we had the highest hopes for. You come from a family reputable for its tenacity of character and we have heard great things about you. It's…well, it's a pity really. Makes one believe that you almost have no interest in Cercle 19. If I remember well, you were the one who had been so adamant about staying. I even allowed your lousy maid to join so that we could have you in a secure manner.'

Blair stood in the office which was so dimly-lit one could hardly make out the outline of the furniture. There were no chairs for the visitors, only one, large and imposing like a primate's back on which Mr. B sat. He wore a mask still, a different one from the original. It was all black and smooth, almost like the fabric of his suit. Her feet were starting to hurt inside the Manolos that she was sporting. She had strutted around the school for a whole day before running to the Ritz in order not to be late for her meeting with Cercle 19's mysterious leader.

There was a reason why there were no chairs around. Visitors like Blair, who had failed in every mission assigned to them, were not eligible to enjoy the luxury of sitting.

She remained silent, knowing that he was not yet done with his cold and composed lecture. Something was so familiar about him and she could only half-listen while one part of her mind was frantically trying to identify him.

'Now, I understand you just started. I'm not going to stand here and lie to you though. I don't do that and I condone it. No one else among the other members has failed in their assigned mission. No one. Not even your car-alarm-loud of a maid. What's worse is that, this is the second mission you have missed. Do you know what Henry Foreman's death has done to this organization Blair?'

He let the question hang in the air and she was seized with a déjà vu like feeling. The way he said her name, as if she was a close acquaintance made her even more suspicious.

'I know that members of the elite are reluctant to trust us after my mistake.' Blair stated after realizing that he had asked a question.

'Yes indeed! It was a blow not only to Cercle 19 but to many of us. He was a friend. He put his trust in those he believed were his allies and we failed him.'

Blair noticed the slight emotion in his voice although his mask let nothing transpire. His hands were intertwined firmly but he didn't move from his upright sitting position.

'I'm sorry. Truly, I am.' Blair managed to say.

'I did not tell the other members that you were the one who failed. As much as you deserve the scapegoating, I will spare some of your dignity that way.'

'May I ask why Rufus Humphrey?' Blair suddenly asked, feeling bold and not particularly caring about causing uproar. That man was ice itself and although she dreaded his discontent, she could very well take it if it came in the form of polite, well-formed sentences.

All she got was a chuckle that was nothing joyful.

'That's a great question. Why him? What has he done to deserve death? I am sure you have thought about it before you conveniently let him escape.'

'I didn't−' Blair began.

'Now, don't insult our intelligence. You may have fooled that Frenchman Ludovic but I'm no idiot. Tell me exactly what happened.'

Blair reasserted the story, keeping Dan well away from the narrative. Instead, she lied openly, hoping her years of experience in the domain would finally pay off. Instead of Dan being the one who put up a fight, she said that it was Rufus himself who wrestled her down. As she kept talking, her frustration kept growing because she could see nothing from the man's face and it bothered her.

There was a silence after she finished her account of the events. His hands were still immobile on the shiny surface of his ebony desk.

'Didn't think the man had it in him.' Mr. B finally said. He must have interpreted her frustration for disappointment. Either way, her story was accepted and she suppressed the sigh of relief that was bubbling in her chest.

'I frankly didn't think so either' Blair added in an attempt to secure his trust.

'You are still unsure as to what he did? Or are you trying to test me?'

'Test you? No, I really have no idea why Humphrey was requested to be it was because he fathered that little she-devil Jenny but even then, that really doesn't justify killing him.'

He was staring at her she realized. The cold blue of his eyes were piercing through the hole of his mask and she moved about nervously, shifting her weight on one of her leg.

'I believe you _really _have no idea. I thought you were brighter. Then again, you failed those missions so cross that.' Mr. B paused a little dramatically. 'Do you know who I am?'

Was that a trick question? Was she supposed to know who he was? Had the other members of Cercle 19 figured it out while she stood there entirely clueless and about to be proven a failure for the hundredth time?

'You are Mr. B.' Blair finally answered safely.

'No. Who I _really _am. This Mr. B business is for the other members. And so is the mask. I am wanted by certain people and it would be best for me to remain anonymous. Yet, there are some people I cannot fool. At least not for long and I believe you have known me enough.'

She tried to think of all the men that had come to their dinner parties. They had been rich and engaged in some sort of business proposition with her mother. But none of them had sounded as cold as this one.

Her lack of answer prompted him to continue talking.

'Well, Blair. Since it's taking you much longer than my time will allow, I will speed things up for you.'

He stood up and she saw his hands go up to the clasps of his heart was being foolish enough to mistake this gesture for something ominous. He removed it in one smooth movement. Blair let out a loud gasp while her purse fell noisily to the carpeted ground.

There stood Bart Bass, as whole as she had ever known him before his death. There was no scratches, no trace of injury on his contoured the massive desk to approach her and she was seized with panic.

'This cannot be true! You died! We went to your funeral! Oh God!'

'Do you see me dead right now?Sincerely Blair, you have spent quite enough time in my presence before that unfortunate accident to have been able to recognize me. At first, I thought your maid had it figured out. She's a clever one, that Dorota. I would keep her close to me if I were you. The, time passed and still, I had no confrontation from your part. Granted, we haven't had much interaction either but I thought that after the Rufus Humphrey request, you would have understood.'

Blair could not believe it. She realized that she was shaking and that her legs felt too weak to carry her weight. This man in front of her, Chuck's father, had never been someone she had really liked. A year or more of hearing about the different ways he could make his son feel miserable and worthless had turned her feelings towards him into mild contempt. Yet, she had admired him a little for being successful but also for his composure. Blair could not say that she hadn't borrowed her tricks from Bart Bass; the way he sat straight as a ruler or the nonchalance of his gestures had all benefited her in Constance. People responded the right way to these signals.

Yet now, she knew she could not feel anything remotely good at seeing the man alive. She was not relieved, nor was she happy about it. It was as if he should have remained dead. He was a murderer for now she understood that he had wanted Rufus Humphrey dead for no valid reason.

'You were the one who asked for Rufus to be killed.' Blair stated, her voice slightly trembling. 'Why?'

'Why? Well, I do not take betrayal very well.'

'But Lily is the one who betrayed you,not Rufus-'

'He is just as much involved. He knew she was a married woman. He should have left her in peace. And I won't stand around and watch him get the upper hand, stealing kisses and more from my own wife.'

'Well he escaped now.' Blair pleaded. 'He won't be bothering Lily anymore. I am sure she would be relieved to see you are still alive. That should be good enough. He doesn't need to be killed.'

'I suppose so.' Bart Bass replied. 'I would much rather my secret remain unknown for a while. I count on you to keep it and in exchange, you will not be relegated to the lowest missions, the ones that your maid excels at. In fact, I have got something else for you.'

She knows she should have been happy to be given another chance but she was still shocked from seeing the man returning from the dead.

'What will happen to Rufus?' Blair asked, entirely disregarding the offer.

'I may send someone after him. Or I may just leave him alone. It depends on the mood I am in. Frankly, I thought he would contact the police, which would have been quite pointless. He has no proof and I know quite a handful of people in the NYPD who owe me favours.'

'I will tell you one thing Blair, before I explain to you what your next task will be. I heard about your exploits in Constance from no other than my own son. He loves you, it's too obvious and quite disconcerting. He had told me how you inspired respect, how the students were afraid to displease you. These are the qualities of someone who should be part of the elite. I learned a long time ago what power was. I was a victim back then and I wished I could walk one corridor without being taunted. Then one day, I came upon the source of my woes, a boy named Hugo, horrible and vicious like a bulldog. I saw him crying. I didn't know why and I didn't care. That was all it took for me to change. I told people and the wind had taken another direction. People will always have weaknesses. Those who show them are doomed while if you hide yours and exploit theirs, you are truly powerful. I have done just that, and look where it took me. I have no doubt you will become just like me.'

Was this what she wanted? Reigning in an underworld society, wearing a mask in front of its members and orchestrating murders and what not for people who had dirty secrets to protect? Blair doubted it and yet she feared the lack of power even more. She despised the feeling of weakness and while this Cercle 19 went to the extremes, it was all she had. The Ivy League was like a distant locked door and she had tripped in her own tricks, landing her in NYU, where she would most likely become a forgotten name. No, this was all that connected her to the elite and she could not just yet let it go.

'What is the mission?' Blair asked in a tone that tried to be confident.

'Another kill. Not someone you know so I'm hoping you won't be too compassionate this time. I thought Ludovic had trained you to be detached?'

'He did, I guess it couldn't work with someone I know.' Blair mumbled.

Bart only shook his head in disappointment.

'Whatever. This one should be easy. His name is Hendrik Vielsen, not that it matters. Hopefully he will be dead by tomorrow evening. He is going to the Opera tomorrow with his wife. Now she is the one who requested the kill. She gave no reason but I suspect a grave case of domestic violence. Take that Ruger Mark with you, dress fancy and watch him well. Wait until the entr'acte to act. He is a hopeless alcoholic and he needs to urinate quite often. If he gets up before the entr'acte, follow him. I don't care how you achieve this, but you must kill him. We cannot afford to disappoint another client.'

He went back to his desk, beckoning her to follow. She did so with trembling limbs and a nauseating taste in her mouth.

'Here is your ticket. Your seat is two rows behind the Vielsens. She'll be wearing a bright green dress so that you should recognize her. She had no idea who you are. The less she knows the better. And now, take this. It has enough photographs of Vielsen for you to not mistake him with another gentleman.'

All Blair could do was nod and appear composed even if inside, she was raging storm of distress. That was something she couldn't fail added on top of the fact that she was serving a man who had a gravestone in his name somewhere. She was handed a document containing pictures of that Hendrik man. He looked like a perpetually angry man, with eyebrows always frowning and a sort of villainous glare in his eyes. It made it somewhat easier to think about killing him.

As much as a large part of her had been hoping for Hendrik Vielsen to sit tight and never venture anywhere close to the Metropolitan's quiet side corridors, she was aware that waking up tomorrow without his name in the papers would literally mean the worse for her future in Cercle 19. She had to do it.

Her dress was one of her mother's designs, a black velvet straight-skirt piece with embroidered golden beads forming into discrete flowers around the bust area. She needn't attract unwanted attention so that had been the perfect attire. She had been sitting through thirty minutes of incessant singing and dramatic exclamations, which would normally have amazed her to no limits, but the task at hand made it impossible to even pay attention to anything.

Vielsen had finally decided to stand up. His wife nodded towards him before glancing behind her, obviously aware that someone would make a move. Blair made herself small in her seat, afraid to be recognized even though the darkness already dissimulated her face. She waited until the wife shifted her attention to the singers before standing up. Vielsen's progression towards the bathrooms was slow. He was a heavy man and his inflated stomach did not miss any of the other spectators' faces as he tried to extricate himself from the row of seats. Blair stood up just as he finally reached the alley. She decided to take the other route from behind in order not to seem suspicious. Receiving a few looks of discontent from blocking the view of two Japanese women, she reached the right alley and quickly made for the door.

There were one too many people in the corridor. One elegant man stood there, sighing heavily as he played a game of Tetris on his smartphone, obviously bored of the operatic performance. Another man was speaking on the phone quite vehemently, insisting that he must hang up since his wife was waiting for him inside the amphitheatre. The two men looked at her for a second before they went back to their phones. Her eyes spotted the door where Vielsen should be coming from. The gun was in her clutch, waiting to be put to use for the first time since she had acquired it.

Vielsen showed up about a minute after she had arrived. She had pretended to be talking on the phone in order not to appear suspicious. The man who had to join his wife disappeared while the other one was still focused on his game of Tetris. Vielsen gave her a sly look that told a lot about what he was thinking. She felt disgusted and for a moment, there was no guilt left in her.

She waited outside while Vielsen was in the toilets. Her voice sounded shrill as she spoke to an imaginary Serena about next week's equally imaginary charity event. Her eyes watched the bathroom's door intently and she prayed that the elegant Tetris man would just leave.

Thankfully, whatever business Vielsen had to do in the bathrooms, took quite a while and Tetris man also ended up getting bored of his phone. She heard him sigh one more time.

'Got to dive back into the torture.' He said to Blair with a smile.

She responded with the same, knowing that being rude to someone would always incite them to remember you in an unfavourable way. And just in case this particular guy could say anything about her and Vielsen's death, she would rather have him think of her as a nice person.

Vielsen showed up after a while and she knew what would follow.

'Hi there.' Blair said, putting on the flirtiest smile she could manage. 'This, um, La Traviara or whatever is kind of a bore. My ears are going to explode.'

He checked her out openly and she resisted the temptation to slap him.

'I agree. My wife is fond of it so I made an effort.'

'Your wife?' Blair asked, feigning to sound disappointed.

How could a man like him ever think that he could actually get a girl like her was beyond her understanding. Then it dawned upon her: money.

'Oh, just by name. I actually want nothing to do with her.' He said in a suggestive tone.

_God, what a despicable man!_

'Then why are you making an effort?' Blair forced herself to smile pleasantly with him.

His disagreeable eyes were filled with dirty lust and she could see a red flush overcoming his already pink face. One hand was passed through a mane of flax blond hair, the kind that looked lifeless and repulsive to the touch.

'So that she shuts her mouth.' He said, grinning and entirely expecting her to sympathize. Blair did accordingly.

'Could I speak to you privately Mr…?'

He gave her an encouraging smile and she began to move towards the end of the corridor where the door leading to the service quarters was. She had studied the plan of the building properly and she knew that this was the only corridor that had no cameras due to the fact that it was close to the main hall and quite far from the performers' quarters. Her only hope would be to continue down to where the store space was.

The storing space of the building was large and filled with gigantic sealed boxes. There were two trucks parked next to the garage doors leading to the back street but nobody seemed to be around. They had been entertaining small talk while Blair approached the corner of the place where the position and arrangement of the boxes would shield them. She stopped and turned towards him, smiling genuinely this time and she discovered that she had power. This man was at her mercy and may be he didn't deserve death but he sure as hell was going to get it. There was a sense of fulfilment in knowing that soon, she would be done with the mission.

'I'm here about your wife.' Blair said in a whisper.

Hendrik Vielsen's eyes lost some of their perversion to be replaced with curiosity and confusion.

'What could my wife have anything to do with you?' He asked warily.

Blair retrieved the gun from her evening purse, watching his eyes widen in shock. But he was not one to lose all his senses. Vielsen quickly lunged forward, his enormous belly colliding with her, making the both of them tumble. Her head hit the edge of one of the metallic boxes and she felt a sharp, alarming pain spread itself on her skull. The Ruger Mark fell from her hand. Vielsen grabbed her arms, his palms sweaty and sticking like tentacles. He was grunting like a mad bear and there was some spit on the corner of his mouth.

'You little bitch. The big bitch sent you to kill me right?' He said close to her ear.

Blair smelled a faint alcohol odour emanating from his mouth as well as an unpleasant nasty one that she couldn't quite recognize. It was filthy just like the man on top of her.

'I won't let you kill me. I won't. She'll die before I do. That she will.'

They struggled for quite a while. Blair panicked entirely and everything Ludovic had taught her was now a blur in her mind. It wasn't until she felt one slithering hand on her calf as he tried to control her legs too in an attempt to immobilize her, that her wits came crashing down on her. He held her two arms steadily but he couldn't control her legs and one of them lifted to kick him in the middle of his revoltingly large belly. The heel of her shoe caused him to groan in pain but he didn't release her ams. He couldn't control her legs either although he tried holding them down with his own huge ones. It didn't work and Blair kicked him once again with all her might, this time, her heel fully sinking amidst the skin of his ventral area. Her arms were finally free and she grabbed his neck with the both of them, feeling his sweat even through her evening gloves. Vielsen was breathless due to the blow and he was clutching his stomach desperately. Ludovic's tricks came to her mind and she used her legs as a lever to get him off her. He tumbled to her left, still trying to grab at her while Blair stood up and ran for the gun.

She shot him.

There had been a discreet, almost elegant noise from her polished Ruger Mark. Then, the blood followed, forming a puddle that threatened to soil her heels. Her body was trembling, her head was pounding and there was little splatters of blood on her golden gloves. There probably was a lot of blood on her dress too but the dark velvet hid it well. Ludovic had always asked her to aim for the head, clean and all, but she couldn't have managed it for the world. The bullet had gone through the beginning of his neck, leaving him on the ground, convulsing in his last moments. Blair wanted to vomit but she could leave nothing that could be traced back to her. Avoiding the blood on the ground and setting the gun back inside her evening purse, she quickly left the place.

It was the entr'acte. Blair could hear the people in lobby as she walked down the corridor. The conversation was lively enough to indicate the number of people present. Blair knew that she could not barge in with her blood-stained gloves and dishevelled hair so instead she made for the lady's bathrooms. There were a few women in there, middle-aged aristocratic-looking beings who stood powdering their faces and re-applying layer after layer of lipstick. Blair kept her head bowed down and slipped inside a cabin. As soon as it was locked, she began to cry quietly, urging herself to stop. She should be stronger than that. Then, a vivid picture of Hendrik Vielsen's neck with the jugular vein exploded into crimson madness, flashed into her mind. She vomited instantly. One of the ladies outside huffed in disgust.

She waited until she was certain they were gone to come out. The entr'acte was a fifteen minute affair and she knew the best thing to do was to return to the show and pretend nothing happened. Her gloves were ripped off her arms and stuffed inside the evening purse. She fixed her hair and make-up, the latter proving difficult as involuntary tears escaped her eyes every too often.

There were still in the lobby. Rich men and women, some she knew vaguely and others who were perfect strangers. Vielsen's wife was there too, talking to two other women while looking around furtively, surely trying to detect her husband's presence in the room.

_He is dead, woman. _Blair thought. She wondered if she would cry for him, if she would feel as much guilt as Blair was dealing with in the moment.

Then, to worsen her evening, she saw _him. _

Chuck Bass.

He was standing, arm crossed with a European-looking blonde who was quite taller than he was. She wore a golden gown and her hair was tied up in an extravagant do. Chuck himself was wearing a burgundy suit. His hair was slicked back, the way Blair had always disliked it on Nate. But on Chuck, it didn't look bad she found. Or may be it was because she loved the man. Blair was too much in shock to allow herself to feel jealous, but as he realized she was here, she knew that a conversation with him would be the last thing she could handle tonight.

'Blair.' He acknowledged. 'I didn't know you would be here tonight.'

'Well I am. Nice to see you.' She forced herself to say. Avoiding an argument was the best she could do. But Chuck was not fooled easily. They hadn't been nice to each other in a long time.

'I..I am escorting Viktor Olenchko's daughter. He is our number one investor so I…'

If she had any power left in her, she would roll her eyes at his pathetic attempt to explain.

'I understand.' She cut him.

He looked at her intently, surveying her eyes.

Blair could see he was doing better. There was no more traces of insomnia on his face and he looked more cheerful than she had ever seen him do. Clearly, he was doing better without her. But the sight of him did not make her feel better, like the sight of a friend should after a traumatic event. Instead, she found herself avoiding his looks, afraid that he would detect something in her expression like he was always apt to do. Chuck was Bart's son and the last person she could confide in. She wondered if he knew about his father.

'You like La Traviata.' He stated. 'I remember you spoke about it in class last year. Are you…are you liking this show?'

_Well, he is trying._

'Yes.' Blair replied. 'I am not into the woman who plays Violetta. Her voice is a bit too screechy.'

'I thought so too.' Chuck replied quietly. 'Are you alright?'

The way he looked at her in that moment…She could swear that he loved her. She had never thought him a perceptive man, mainly because he spent most of his time thinking about himself, but there wasn't a single trace of smugness left in him. This was the Chuck she had fallen for.

'I'm fine. Why do you ask?'

He watched her for a few seconds before making his reply.

'You don't look _fine. _Well, you always look beautiful, but that's not the point. You seem unwell.'

This wasn't helping her at all.

'Nice try Bass. I'm still not forgiving you.' Blair said, watching him scowl with hurt. She knew he had been sincere but she could not have it from him. Not tonight. 'I have to go.'

She bid him goodbye and walked away just as the spectators started re-entering the amphitheatre, forgetting the show entirely.

Dorota had taken the Saturday off and Blair had gone home and found it empty. Her maid had mentioned a date with a secret man and it was only Blair's lack of interest that had prevented her from spilling out his name in excitement. Nobody could blame her. The thought of having to murder someone could cause serious instances of inattention. She walked into her room. Her bed was made but the cream-coloured sheets looked too clean for sleeping. Or may be she was too tainted for sleep. Dorota could not give any comfort, especially since Blair had not told her about the mission in fear of receiving too many protestations from her maid.

She had never noticed how large her bed really was. Buying it had taken so long. Like the princesses in the stories of her childhood, she valued her sleep and the bed on which it would take place. As she stood in front of it, she realized it looked more of a bed for married couples. It could hold two people quite well, but nobody had ever shared it with her; not Chuck, not her mother, not even Serena.

Her phone beeped.

She had left it at home in her hurry to get out. She seized it, expecting a message from Chuck.

_I had to ask Nate for your number. And no, this isn't to give you a lecture about breaking up with him, or whatever. You guys were over a long time ago, long before I even became friends with him. Okay, the point is, I got your number now and he gave me a hell of a weird look. Tell him we are working together for a school project. I'm supposed to interview you or something for English class, let's say. Anyways, I was wondering when you could actually give me those explanations I asked for. Not to sound pushy or anything, and I can hear you sigh dramatically right now, but we got a tricky situation here, alright?_

Blair couldn't believe the length of his text. Even texting was not spared from his rambling tendencies.

_Is your sister at home? _Blair texted back.

She waited sitting on the edge of her bed. Hendrik Vielsen's body was like a wallpaper on the walls of her mind. Wherever she turned, she would find it there, shaken with spasms that made the blood spurt out like crimson syrup. It was worse than having seen Henry Foreman's ravaged head because she had been the one to shoot this time. She had caused this atrocious sight all by herself.

Dan replied after a few minutes. She found another ramble:

_What? No comment on how uselessly long my first text was and how I shouldn't have wasted your time. Weird. That's not how I imagined my texting experience with Blair Waldorf to start. Not that I ever imagined it would considering we're like, you know, not friends. Okay, well, to answer your question, no she isn't here. Why?_

Dan was the only other person who knew. Did it make it right to confide in him? Perhaps not, especially after the Rufus affair. But she needed to speak about it and he was alone in a loft in Brooklyn.

_I'm coming over. Stay put. If your sister decides to show up, I don't care what it takes, just keep her out. _Blair texted back.

She didn't bother changing, throwing instead a trench coat over her dress and switching her high heels for something more comfortable. She was still dizzy from the fall and had to steady herself on the wall before going down the stairs. Her phone rang again, indicating Dan had replied.

_Inviting yourself again? It's becoming a habit, Waldorf. Be careful, wouldn't want to make Brooklyn your scene. I'm going to stop here before you decide to show up completely armed. I'm waiting._

She told the chauffeur the destination and sank back into her seat. Normally, she would question why she was doing this but this wasn't 'normally' and she wasn't normal anymore. Tonight had changed everything that she used to be. She was not the girl who had lost Yale, the girl who was the social queen of Constance. She was not even the girl who loved Chuck. Blair Waldorf was a killer and it felt like it was all she would ever be from now on.

**Finally done with this long chapter. I'm sorry for the long bit about the kill but since it's Blair's first, I didn't want to make it unimportant. Everything is important. And as you can see, it leads up to a nice Dair scene in the future chapter. In the loft nonetheless! I am sure you guys will love the next chapters. **

**As usual, I hope I did not disappoint. I try my best to keep them in character.**

**Any comment, suggestion, critique, review is WELCOME! So don't be shy!**

**Also, I have an announcement to make. I have started another AU Dair fic, Pride and Prejudice style. I hope you guys might like it. It's very hard to write since I am trying to remain faithful to Austen's style without losing the essence of our characters. Anyways, shout out if you are down for it. Won't matter anyway because I'm posting it (No, it will matter, I'm just joking!).**

**Anyways take care dear readers!**


	14. Chapter 14:Moments

**Thanks to all those who reviewed and who keep reviewing. I will never not say thank you!**

**Okay, so now on for the chapter I am sure you had been looking forward to.**

**Keep reviewing!**

Blair was coming soon and Dan had no idea what to do. It was close to 10:30 in the evening and he had only eaten a bagel sandwich made half-heartedly after realizing that there were no groceries left. Since his father's departure, Dan had struggled to keep the house in order. He spent the whole of the afternoon rearranging the loft, getting rid of all the garbage and cleaning his own room which had become a chaos of books, clothes and empty plates.

Sunday was originally going to be his cleaning day and now he thanked the Lord that he had changed his mind. If there is one thing worse than having Blair Waldorf over at his place, it was having her see it in all its mess.

Was she hungry? Dan wondered. He had nothing in the fridge that was substantial enough except an unopened box of butterscotch ice cream, butter and a few vegetables that could make nothing of interest to a gourmet girl like Blair.

Not that he would make her dinner, unasked and unprompted. If she asked for it, he would have tried something. Too bad he didn't even have eggs. He was usually a master at making omelettes.

He then proceeded to the living room. His father's records hanging on the walls were a little lopsided and the cover of the sofa was wrinkled in some spaces. He fixed those in a hurry.

"Shit, we need some air spray. Do we even have air spray?" Dan said out loud.

His father would know exactly where it was. He didn't and after frenetically looking for it under the kitchen's sink and in every bedroom, Dan gave up. He cracked a window open and sprayed some of Jenny's perfume, putting it back in the exact spot he found it from fear of his sister noticing. She was pretty protective of her bottle of Givenchy.

It smelled oddly like Blair.

He really hoped she wouldn't notice.

He heard her knock. Everything that Fawkes had said to him came back to his mind. He was to be friendly, even against his was supposed to keep her closer than all of his other friends, to become attuned to her, to gain her trust. Sometimes he thought Fawkes was delusional. Blair certainly did trust him with her secret but that is only because he busted her. He could hardly imagine her opening up to him about her personal woes or her troubles with Chuck and frankly, he would rather not hear about those.

He expected to find an exasperated Blair, scowling like he had been the one to force her to come and just pushing past him to admit herself inside the loft. Yet, that wasn't what he found in front of his door. She looked exhausted and her usually impeccable hair fell weakly to the side in a distorted do. There was no smirk on her face, not even the shadow of an attempt to insult him. Dan was wearing a plaid panama shirt on top of his jeans, which he thought would be offence enough to cause an exclamation of disdain from Blair. She didn't even look at his outfit.

"Hey." He said hesitantly. "Come in."

Blair walked slowly inside, stopping close to the sofa, as if unsure whether she should sit or not.

"You can take off your coat. Despite being located in a lowly area, I can assure you we have a good heating system in this loft." He said. "I can hang it. You know, if it's expensive."

She looked at him pointedly.

"Of course it's expensive!" He exclaimed but she didn't remove it.

Dan locked the door.

"It smells like _Organza_ in here." Blair stated feebly, not really expecting a reply.

"What's wrong Blair?" He finally asked.

She wasn't looking at him and it bothered Dan. He walked over to the where she was, not knowing if he should urge her to sit down. She wasn't a fan of his sofa.

"I killed someone." Blair whispered.

Her chest heaved violently,as if she had stopped herself from breathing for a while. It took him a few seconds to really grasp the meaning of her words.

_So she has finally become like me, _he thought.

"And no, it was nothing like what happened to Serena. I took orders, I followed them and I killed a man." A sob threatened to escape her throat so she stopped talking.

She was still standing so he gently grabbed her upper arm and led her towards the sofa. Blair willingly sat down, as if just remembering that there was a sofa.

There could be no explanation about his father's situation tonight and he knew it. What surprised him the most is that he didn't have to fake his sympathy. He was genuinely concerned for her. When Dan had killed Linda Theriault, he had no one. He had gone back home at an unusual hour and had sat through his father's lecture, all the while pretending he had been out with friends. He had had to control his trembling, his tears, everything and even inside his room, he could not be free to let loose. Jenny's room was a wall away. So he had stifled his cries inside his pillow while his body shook in its entirety, unable to sleep and unable to erase Linda Theriault from his thoughts. He still thought of her at times, as his bullet found her heart, propelling her to fall backwards, her beige silk cardigan slowly overcome with a dark stain. Her fingers had twitched, as if longing for his hand to hold them and the air had been heavy with the jasmine perfume she was fond of. Whenever he smelled jasmine now, he would always feel uneasy. Fawkes had told him that the first kill would always remain with him, until the end of his days, no matter how many people he would murder later on. She said that he would learn to live with it, to relegate the memory towards the back of his mind until he would have accomplished enough missions to be able to remember it without as much pain and self-loathing.

Fawkes had been the only being he could talk to, but she was hardly a compassionate person. She had given support through congratulations and advices but she had remained nameless and faceless as always. No one had hugged him or patted him in the back. All he had received was a good ten thousand dollars, blood money. He still can't remember on what he had spent it. At that time, everything he had bought with it had seemed cursed.

"You are supposed to feel bad Blair. If you didn't, it wouldn't be normal." He was tempted to say that her past cruelty towards him and his sister should have made him surprised that she ever felt bad at all but he knew it was the wrong moment. "You chose to be involved in these things and it's never an easy thing to do. God knows if you even get out."

"I'm in for life Humphrey." She stated. Then she began self-justifying, something Dan was only too familiar with. "He was a horrible man. Just the way he looked me up, like I was meat for him to do as he pleases with. And he abused of his wife. I could see fought back too. He hurt me. That son of a bitch hurt me."

"He hurt you?" Dan inquired, giving her a worried look. "Most people will fight back if they see they are about to be killed."

"I suppose so." Blair almost snarled back. "He was still a bad man. I mean there is a reason why he was asked to be murdered! He had it coming and it's almost like he knew it. But I had to do it Dan."

He understood her more than she could ever know and it was so strange. He felt a connection between them, something that hadn't been there prior to Blair's first kill. He had lived through the same guilt, the same trembling that overpowered her tiny hands, the same need to justify his atrocious acts. It almost disappointed him that he couldn't confide in her. The need was so great but he knew Fawkes would never hear of it. Blair still worked for Bart Bass and in no way could Dan jeopardize his mission.

"Was my father a bad man?" Dan almost whispered.

Blair looked at him, her large brown eyes slowly overcome with tears.

"I shouldn't have come here." She replied curtly.

"Hey! I didn't ask you to." Dan defended himself. "Regret your decisions all on your own, alright?"

For a fraction of a second, Dan saw a flash of the bitchy Constance Blair and it confounded him.

"Did I ever mention you did? You're a master at jumping to conclusions. Almost as good at it as you are at rambling. It didn't help you with Serena and it's not going to help you with anyone!" Blair affirmed in a heated tone. "I shouldn't have come here because it's inappropriate after what happened with your father.I don't know what I was thinking."

Blair stood up, using the armrest of the sofa as leverage. He just noticed she was wearing an evening dress underneath the trench.

May be it was Fawkes' words ringing in his mind or may be it was just that genuine sympathy he couldn't explain but he got up to follow her.

"Blair, listen." He said as he grabbed both of her shoulders. They were almost completely covered by his large hands.

She stopped and looked at him as if he had overstepped a boundary but she didn't enunciate any complaint. There was a tear gliding down her cheek, leaving a glistening slender trail on the peachy skin. He waited for her to say something or to shove him off like it was the custom whenever one of the two was in contact with the other. But Blair just stood there, slightly trembling and looking like someone he didn't know.

It was not right, he realized.

And he didn't know how what he was about to do could make it right. Nothing could and may be it was because he had always wanted that hug for himself.

Tentatively, he pulled her forwards, watching the look of mild shock in her eyes until it disappeared against his chest. His arms went over her shoulders to wrap around her back and they moved with it as she breathed uncertainly. He smelled her perfume, something similar to Jenny's _Organza _but also a little lighter.

Dan would rather ignore the fact that his heartbeat had decided to increase its rhythm. There were too many emotions involved in that situation, some that dated from even before he had started working for Fawkes. He would not question because there would be no answers.

Blair had relaxed into his arms after a few seconds and he felt her arm feathering its way on his own back, urging him shyly to pull forward. Her other arm also joined in and he felt them encircle the small of his back. Her embrace was weak and prudent, afraid to get into something she could regret later on.

He knew she was crying freely by then.

"Normally I would be in Dorota's arms." was her feeble attempt to defend herself.

He couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

"It's okay. Just pretend I'm Dorota." Dan replied.

"It's hard don't feel like Dorota at all. She's shorter than me for one. And she doesn't smell like coffee. I made sure of that." Blair said in a matter-of-fact tone.

They stood for a while in that awkward yet comfortable position while she struggled against the sobs. He then felt her push him away a little so he released her.

"I really should go. I'm still wearing the same outfit. His..his blood is on me. God, what if they carry an investigation and I am found out!"

Blair refused to look him in the eye but he could see she was panicking. He remembered asking himself the same question the night of his first murder.

"Blair, listen to me. Chances are that if you work for a secret society, your doings will remain secret. Whoever your leader is, he knows what he asks of you. He doesn't want any of his subordinates to be caught, because if they are, he is done for too. You won't be caught."

"I should go any sister might come home and I'm not in the mood to answer questions. Especially hers." Blair tightened the belt of her trench coat as if suddenly seized by a cold breeze.

"Jenny isn't coming home tonight. She is with Eric and Jonathan. Or at least, that's what she would have me believe."

He wanted her to understand indirectly that she could stay longer if she wanted. Blair didn't catch the hint though.

"Are you going to be alone?" Dan asked.

"Yes. I don't want to disturb Dorota on her date. I've given her enough troubles with my Cercle 19 drama, as I'm sure I have done to you." Blair said. She wiped a wet cheek with her hand and inhaled sharply.

Dan decided right away that she would stay longer. He could see she was not that determined to leave the loft and from his personal experience, he knew that a night alone, isolated from anyone who could care or understand would be close to fatal. He didn't know Blair enough to trust her into such a situation. Nobody could be trusted into such a situation.

"I was about to watch a movie." He lied. "It's not as much fun if I'm alone."

"You think it might be better with me?" She teased hesitantly, visibly considering the offer. "I have different taste, I'm sure. I don't like those superhero nonsense movies that Nate favours. And since most guys think the same..."

"Well…I was going for…" He ran to the shelves where most of their dvd movies were haphazardly stacked. The mix was quite eclectic. Jenny's movies were easily recognizable from the abundance of pretty actresses on their covers as well as the dominance of the colour pink. He read hurriedly: _Ten Things I Hate About You, John Tucker Must Die, A Walk to Remember, Bridget Jones' Diary_. He had liked the latter, mainly because he had enjoyed reading the book by Helen Fielding, something that he would never ever admit to anyone. Now that he remembered, he had been the one who actually bought the movie. From his father, he found only those inspirational life biographies of musicians, football players and teachers who changed their students for the better through music and poetry. He doubted Blair would enjoy watching them. They dealt with issues that had nothing to do with her. His own movies were another kind of eclecticism all in themselves. He had everything from _The Godfather _series to _The Lord of the Rings_, passing by Stanley Kubrick and Hitchcock. He owned many of the old Hollywood horror movies especially. There was something about the over expressive acting and the controlled, almost mechanical voice of the male actors that had always fascinated him. Then of course, he had watched a series of movies recommended by Fawkes herself to sort of "get himself into the mood". They had been given to him wrapped in a yellow paper. _Kill Bill Vol. 1 _and _2_, _Crank_, _La Femme Nikita, Pulp Fiction _(Tarantino's work was predominant in Fawkes' list), _Road to Perdition_… They had helped somehow in giving him that boost of confidence that he had lacked since most of those movies glorified the killer.

But Dan doubted that Blair could sit through two hours of violence, even if she had not just killed someone. Despite her cruel disposition towards the many students at Constance, she seemed to have refined taste that excluded movies with coarse language and blood-filled scenes. He knew Blair was waiting for him to name the title and he frantically pretended he was extending the suspense while he tried to decide which one would do best. He discarded all of Fawkes and his father's movies at once. His sister's would only fuel Blair's own mockery. Then he saw Renee Zellweger's face, flanked by Colin Firth and Hugh Grant and he thought, why not? It was a clever, well-written romantic comedy, set in England with a pair of charming male leads. It's any girl's dream, even Blair's.

"_Bridget Jones' Diary." _Dan finally announced, retrieving the dvd in one movement.

Blair's face registered incredulity.

"You were going to watch _that. _Not some pretentious independent production on a young man in love with a wealthy girl and on a quest to win her heart with a few verses of poetry?"

That hurt his pride a little.

"May be I should watch my movie alone after all." Dan stated, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh no. No. You're not going to escape my critique." Blair said while she unbuttoned her trench coat.

This was her way of saying that she wanted to stay because Blair doesn't apologize of course.

"Have you watched it before?" Dan inquired. "I mean, it did come out a long time ago and I don't think you're into these clumsy, verbally-challenged female antagonists. You look like the kind of person who likes watching strong female role models, you know, like Hilary Clinton or Catwoman."

"You don't know me Humphrey." Blair replied, rolling her eyes as she carefully hung her coat on the back of one of the kitchen high chairs. "I may enjoy such movies very much but I'm no stranger to saccharine narratives with happy endings and a charming romance. But that's already telling too much. And to answer your question, no, I have not watched it."

"Alright then. Put the dvd inside the player while I go make us some tea." Dan said, handing her the movie. "I would offer you something to eat but I'm sure you are nowhere near the mood for it."

Oh, and he also had nothing but ice cream.

His father's tea collection (for he had so much variety, Dan could not find a better word to describe it) had its own special cupboard in the kitchen. Dan was astonished at the different kinds and even wondered how he never bothered to try them before. There was jasmine tea and plain green tea in its natural dried state which he couldn't make for the life of him. He was relieved to see that there was the other, easier kind that came in bags. He found English tea, then blueberry tea, mixed berries, orange, cinnamon, Morroccan mint…

"So what kind of tea would you like? There is, um, mint and orange, berries…"

"Surprise me!" Blair replied while he saw her struggling with their dvd player. "And by that, I mean a pleasant surprise!"

"Sure…" He replied uncertainly. "Just knock on its surface, it should open it."

He heard a phone ringing and it wasn't his.

Blair stopped her battling with the dvd player and went to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her trench coat. After looking at the screen, she gave Dan a wary look.

"It's them." she said in a whisper.

Dan nodded and silently promised that he would make no noise. He turned her back to her, pretending to choose the tea.

"Hello." Blair's voice was carefully controlled, like a receptionist's.

Dan was all ears, remembering Fawke' mission all at once. He could only distinguish the faint sound of a man's voice but he could not make out the exact words. He randomly selected the mixed berries tea, took out two bags and set them aside.

"It's done." He heard Blair say. "He is in the storage space of the left wing."

He found the kettle and tried to noiselessly fill it up with water. He took out two mugs at random.

"Tell him. Tell him, it's done." Blair insisted before hanging up.

Dan had an idea about who that "him" might be.

"Wow." He commented. "This really is like a movie."

To his surprise, Blair did not seem as nervous anymore.

"Trust me Humphrey. It is exactly like one." She replied. "You'll have to put the movie in yourself. I"m not used to defected material. And hurry up for God's sake!"

When the tea was ready, Blair sat down while Dan put the movie in. Renée Zellweger's voice started the narration and he joined her on the sofa. She had decided to sit on the extreme right, crossing her legs elegantly and in a manner that somehow indicated she would rather not be in close proximity to him. He respected that and took the extreme left, crossing his leg just as reservedly as she did. She said the tea was "not bad" and that marked the beginning of their silent visioning. This was more awkward than the hug, he thought. Watching a movie with Blair Waldorf, in his own living room. They were both absorbed in the movie, unwilling to talk, as if it would remind them that they were really doing this. He glanced towards her at times. Blair seemed genuinely interested in the movie's story. She held her cup with both hands, taking a delicate sip every once in a while. Even tired and with a face having lived through a good cry, she still managed to look her own kind of beautiful. And she was always elegant. Always.

When had his nemesis become so fascinating to him? Dan forced himself to stop. He was forgetting who she had been to him all these years, had forgotten her pretty-heeled foot kicking his notebook on the ground, her incessant mocking of his clothes, hair, talking… He had always believed that there were two people he could never be friends with: Chuck and Blair. This relatively polite Blair was disturbing, like a piece of a puzzle that just can't fit. He liked it; he wanted to believe that there was more to it but in the end, she was only there because there was no one else.

He fell asleep on these thoughts as Bridget just announced to Daniel Cleaver she was about to quit her job.

**I really, really, REALLY hope this chapter was to your satisfaction dear readers and followers of this story. I loved writing it. I never yet gave them a sort of tender moment so I think the first hug is significant. I think both of them have no idea what to think about it :-P. So of course, they are all awkward now, sitting in the couch and wondering why and how they ended up like this. Oh, it's such a pleasure writing these two. Anyways, next chapter will have a lot of movie critiquing, hug confronting and Fawkes training. I think **_**Bridget Jones**_** is a very significant movie but I won't be that obvious about it. Stay tuned.**

**Oh and please leave a review. I want to know whether I'm doing well with bringing them closer!**

**Thank you!**


	15. Chapter 15: Summer

**I am so very grateful to the reviewers who have been constant and faithful to my story. I got less reviews than usual (which made me a tad depressed) but it doesn't matter! As few as you are, you're a pure treasure to me!**

**Well, and every other reader is important too. **

**Alright, so here is the next chapter.**

**Also, thank you Kevin for your review. I am glad you are enjoying this story!**

"Wake up! Humphrey, wake up." Dan heard. He felt someone nudging his shoulder.

Through a foggy vision, he discerned Blair's face. She was frowning. He mumbled something that both of them didn't understand before sitting straight.

"I thought we were supposed to watch the movie together? You missed seventy-five percent of it!"

"It's alright, I already watched it before." Dan said. "Plus, what would my being awake change? You seemed very much concentrated so the way I see it, I did you a favour. You always hated my comments and ramblings."

The ending credits were scrolling on the screen. His mug was half-full and hers was empty. It was a little after two in the morning and his neighbourhood was dead silent.

Blair was looking at him, understanding dawning slowly upon her features.

"You weren't really going to watch a movie, were you?" She asked.

He held her stare for a few seconds while he debated. If he denied it, Blair would know. He was a lousy liar in general and someone as excruciatingly clever as Blair would immediately see through it. But how does one explain to his nemesis that he had not wanted her to spend the night alone when the said nemesis could very well take it the wrong way?

Blair raised an eyebrow, urging him to answer.

But then, he remembered, she was no idiot. She knew what the answer was.

"I'm sure you already know the answer to this question Blair." Dan stated, crossing his arms on his chest.

Blair sat back, retiring to the extreme right once again, as if it were a territory she needed to defend. Her shoulders were bare and he vaguely wondered whether he should offer her a sweater. He remembered that she only wore clothes that rhymed with Armani and Vuitton. The mere thought of her skin being in contact with his Old Navy jumper would probably extract a screech of horror from her whole being so Dan put the idea to rest.

Blair looked hesitant.

"You thought I could use the distraction." She muttered. "Just like you thought I could use a hug."

_Here we go. The awkward talk is coming. _

He had hoped that it would have gone unnoticed, like a temporary glitch in a movie. It would startle them on the moment but be forgotten as those short and uncomfortable memories. Normally, if that had been Serena, he would have insisted on talking about it, on discussing its relevance or its consequences. He had always been wordy in his relationship with Serena, had always wanted to talk about feelings and conflicts. Serena had said it was _adorable _but she was more a woman of action. So while he was explaining himself to her, she would watch tenderly and mostly absent-mindedly until the opportunity of kissing him wordless showed itself. One thing would lead to another, and he would find himself lying naked next to her, satiated but still contained with words and messages he could not communicate.

But with Blair, he was unable to talk as freely. She had created a complex in him thanks to all the times in which she made fun of his ramblings. He had lived through interruptions, eye rolls, sarcastic remarks or just plain disregard. Dialogue between the two of them had therefore naturally fallen into this banter format, where for every sensible statement uttered, two or three mocking remarks would follow. Even the most serious topics could not escape this protocol.

"Look," Dan started, determined to clear things out with a minimal amount of talk."what did you expect? You came here, claiming you killed someone. You looked so out of it and you were trembling. It would have been ungrateful to let you go alone with those thoughts. I did what I felt was right, that's all."

Blair had that look in her eye, the one that he had seen in that corridor the day he had decided to cheer her up about her mother's choice of Serena.

"Serena always tells me of all the nice things you do for her and I always thought it was because you were trying to get inside her pants. But clearly, if you can find it in yourself to hug a person who murdered someone and who is the cause of your father's exile…it's…Well I find it hard to believe Humphrey. Let's not forget that we hate each other and that I wasn't always the most pleasant person around you in the past."

"You never were the most pleasant person around me." He clarified.

"How? How can one be so nice? It doesn't make sense to me. I would have probably shooed you away, had you come to my place looking for comfort. I would have called Dorota on you. Once, she kicked Chuck outside, he never dared come back since then."

A lot of it had to do with his mission, but he couldn't speak a word of it.

_But I do care about her_, Dan realized. He always had, even when he was still an unknown Brooklyn parasite to her.

"I don't hate you that much Blair." He brought himself to say, knowing that he couldn't prevent the rambling even if he tried."I get we don't like each other but you are the one who made it that way. Do you know how willing I was to get your good opinion? I thought, hey, this is Serena's friend and may be she isn't as bad once you get to know her. May be I could be friends with her. And you didn't notice, but I did try to dress better, not only because Jenny insisted on it, but also because I wanted some parcel of approval from you. And every time, I was met with that disdainful look of yours. So I stopped trying and started hating."

He stopped himself before the moment could turn into a Dr. Phil sort of situation.

"I'm sorry." Blair whispered from the other side of the sofa."And about your father too. I know you want answers but I wish I had anything to offer. All I know is that your father is not being trailed."

He wanted to ask more. He wanted her to say his name, _Bart Bass. _He wanted to hear the confirmation before he would go to Fawkes, begging him to assign him the man's murder. But it was still too soon.

They soon agreed that what had transpired between them would best remain tied to the context in which it happened. She apologized for forcing him into such a context and then promised him that her future missions will prove easier to bear. Yet, Blair was not ready to leave. He could see it in the way she sat, her legs folded comfortably on the sofa, her head cradled by her hand above the armrest. So they began discussing the movie. Blair had liked both Daniel Cleaver and Mark Darcy. Cleaver, as she explained, was every girl's fantasy and she could not blame Bridget for falling for him. Dan disagreed heartily, enumerating all the reasons why the man was a plain asshole.

"He cheats. He lies. He manipulates AND he thinks he can get away with it. I don't care how good he looks in his Ray-Bans, he is beyond redemption."

"You're just saying that because you'll never be as confident as he is. Just admit it, Humphrey! And for the record, he did regret it afterwards. He came back for Bridget! Although why anyone would go back to that clueless panda is beyond me."

Their disagreement kept them debating for a long while and Dan was almost exhilarated. Usually, he had nobody to talk movies with, except Vanessa (who had become increasingly more absent in his life as her relationship with Nate endured) mainly because they were either not that interested or were interested in the wrong kind of genre. Blair believed that Bridget changed Daniel Cleaver. He told her that men don't change unless they want to. Men like Cleaver don't have to at all because there will always be women willing to turn a blind eye. She insisted on making him rewind the dvd so that they could re-watch some of the scenes in order for her to prove her point. In the end, they just sat through the entire thing again. This time, however, they were not silent but gesticulating, arguing and laughing until the very end where they finally agreed to disagree.

When she was having fun (and Dan was convinced it had been the case), Blair could look close to endearing. Her scowl would disappear, her smirk would morph into wide smiles and laughs. Her hands would throw all kinds of gestures, each as theatrical as the other. Up to today, he had only seen her as passionate when she was dealing with her Queen of Constance business.

It was almost five in the morning when Blair decided that she had to leave. He stood awkwardly next to the door while she put on her coat. When she was done, she paused as if about to say something of great importance.

"Thank you Humphrey."She said instead.

"Will you be alright?" He asked.

"Dorota usually comes around seven in the morning."

"Good, I don't have to pretend to be her anymore. She must have a tiring job!" Dan said, pretending to be relieved.

"Don't be ridiculous. Dorota and I do not spend hours discussing a particular movie. Actually, I don't think I have done that with anyone. You're a first. Consider yourself lucky."

She smiled like she was gratifying him with the holiest compliment of all compliments. He was genuinely pleased.

And then, they smiled and bid each other a good night.

Dan didn't know that he wouldn't see Blair until the next fall.

It wasn't to say that he did not see her. Technically, he did. But they had barely been allowed enough time together to go past the usual greetings. She was always with Serena, a person who Dan was still slightly avoiding, or Chuck Bass towards the last week of school. He saw the two of them from afar, the unlikely couple, barely hiding the flirting from everyone else. He wondered what Chuck had done to be restored in Blair's good opinion in such a short lapse of time. As far as he knew, Dan had never stood her up, or publicly humiliated her for being too caring, and yet, she was still unwilling to admit that they could be friends. Blair had been avoiding him, he could see it.

As much as he thought it was detrimental to Fawkes' mission, he was also personally hurt by her furtive glances and her excuses about having some place else to be whenever he came around. Once, she had literally bumped into him, given no apology whatsoever and just walked away.

He was confused beyond words and aware that may be, she didn't want to pursue this friendship at all.

Once again, he regretted being the kind of person who cared too much.

July had come and he had heard that Chuck and Blair had gone to Paris. Serena was the one who told him after he had called to inquire after Blair. She then suggested they could go out and have fun, rapidly specifying that they should go "as friends" and nothing more. He accepted. They had gone out for ice cream before the conversation started to bore him. May be he had been too obvious but they never went out after that episode.

Vanessa was away on a small trip with Nate. Jenny refused to be present for more than an hour in his life. He felt everything was slipping away right through his fingers. His conversations with his father only made him more aware that they needed him back in their lives. Rufus was somewhere in Baltimore, staying up with a cousin Dan had never heard of. He had managed to get a job but he said he missed the gallery more than anything.

On the last week of July, Fawkes had asked him to visit her. He did so accordingly, actually excited for some form of action to happen in his uneventful summer.

It turned out she needed updates on his Blair Waldorf case.

"She hasn't told me anything new." Dan stated, lying backwards on the comfortable chair. New York was sunny that day and he could see it from the large bay windows of her office. Fawkes was also admiring the view as usual.

"Nothing? I should think it has been long enough since the unfortunate event concerning your father. You do know that Bart Bass is the one responsible, right? I would try to speed things up if I were you."

Dan could hear the dissatisfaction in her tone although she did try to mask it.

"She has been avoiding me since that time and now she is in Paris with his son." Dan offered. "I can't follow her there, can I?"

Fawkes remained silent. Her chair swivelled slightly sideways. He discerned the tip of her nose, a sight that had become the only familiar thing of hers.

"No, you can't." She said at last before adding, "I'm surprised she took him back. From what you told me, he sounded like an awful young man."

He had always liked it when Fawkes supported his opinions on people. She had once told him that his judgement was very important to her and it had felt like the most valuable moment of his life.

"Well, she was an awful young woman too. In their case, opposites do not attract." He tried not to sound bitter. Blair taking back Chuck felt more personal to him than it ever should and he did not know how to explain it. Perhaps it was because he had always thought that the bad guy should get to watch the girl he mistreated walk away with the man who had always valued her well. In that case, he had no idea who the nice guy was and he tried to convince himself that he was speaking about Nate, even though his friend was quite happy in his relationship with Vanessa.

"Try to sound less disappointed Daniel." Fawkes teased in her deep voice. "There will always be NYU, I suppose. As long as you do not forget what your priorities are. For now, I have to give you another training session."

He was climbing the ladder faster than he ever thought he could. His victims used to be the easy kind, clueless wealthy businessmen and businesswomen, oftentimes overcome with alcohol and unaware of his intentions. Those kills had scarcely required an elaborate strategy. All he had had to do was to make sure he was alone, in a camera-less place. But Fawkes had told him things were about to get serious. She said she would take him off the "infantile" missions, as she called them, and trust him with the real dangerous stuff. He was apprehensive at first, afraid that he could lose his life over people he could not care less about.

They would be the real guns behind the corrupted elite people. They were the men and women behind the schemes, people who knew they could be targeted and who most likely did not walk far without a weapon in their pockets. And then, there would be the other victims too: the killers, just like him, who made money from slaughtering the wrong people just so that their employers could take their secrets to the these victims would take more skills to combat, more discretion and strategy.

Dan knew how to use about every weapon, from snipers to shotguns passing by combat knives and pistols. What Fawkes meant by training was the use of his body and reflexes. He had learnt the basis of tackling and immobilizing, which could be used well against trainees like Blair but would prove highly inefficient against the professional killers.

He spent the whole of August in company of a man called Daryl. The first two weeks of the month had been spent sweating. Dan would run every day for two hours before doing a round of sit-ups, push-ups and everything else imaginable. A body that is ready is a body in safety, was Daryl's saying.

And Dan sure hoped he would be ready when his future victims would come upon his way.

The rest of August was devoted to the learning of combat. He was not taught how to tackle and stop an opponent; he was taught how to hurt without any weapon but his body. He was shown how to cut a man's breath short, how to crack the spine, how to split a leg. He spent days practicing on dull mannequins that had been discarded from shops who had gone bankrupted. Daryl had also tested the theory on Dan himself, only going so far as he could be allowed to.

After the shower he took everyday, Dan could see that his body was morphing into something he never thought he could have had become leaner, more defined but not anything remotely close to a Schwarzenegger. There were sinewy lines traversing his torso and his arms. He was now more muscled than Nate, he was certain but he doubted he looked better. His training had left him with several bruises where Daryl's feet and fists had landed. They were like blotches of ink on his skin, dark and purplish almost complimenting his own dark hair. He had a few scars too from having landed on the defective material of the warehouse they trained in.

Fawkes had never said it wouldn't hurt and he had never expected it to be otherwise.

He did not know when he had explicitly accepted to be part of these new missions but it seemed the only logical step. He had done too much to go back to a a life of Dan Humphrey, aspiring writer and future English major. Despite the danger, it gave him something else he could think of, something infinitely more exciting.

He had no doubt that the next school year would prove to be interesting.

Dan decided he did not need Blair's friendship to find Bart Bass. He didn't want to make an effort, to be the polite one and to give too much care to someone who obviously gave none. He was feeling afresh by the beginning of September. Fawkes had deemed him worthy of greater responsibilities. He would start a new scholarly experience, this time Serena-less and consequently, devoid of drama. He could focus on his writing, meet new people, kill the ones who deserved death. Really, Dan thought he should find no space for Blair Waldorf among all these prospects.

_I have known people like Claire for far too long. They are egocentric, just like the designers or business moguls they worship. I thought I must have seen something different in her but just like Sabrina, I was once more disappointed. The grandiose Charlie Trout is once more her not-so-significant other and the two of them have gone of somewhere to be merry in Paris, the city of lovers. Paris is not discriminatory when it comes to the love stories it can host. It takes in everything: star-crossed lovers, amoureux des rues, old flames, new flames, one night stands, young couples, old couples, mistresses and affairs…Something as twisted as what Charlie and Claire have can be welcome open-armed in Paris because Paris does not care for common sense. Paris is the city of fantasies. Paris does not judge._

_But I do and I do not approve even if my opinion has nothing to do with the fancy people. I judge nonetheless because what else can I do? _

_I do not matter enough to do anything else for her even if I wish I could._

**I must end it here. So I decided to skip right away to the NYU business. As you can see, Dan is hurt and when he is in such a state, he writes!**

**Also to the Guest reviewer, you will get a scene of Dan saving Blair, although that won't be specifically how she finds out about his own secret :-P.**

**Next chapter will be a Blair's point of view. We all know why she has been avoiding Dan but now that she is back with Chuck (I'm still trying to respect the events of season 2) I wonder how that will play out…We will see :-)**

**Reviews are ALWAYS welcome dairlings. **


	16. Chapter 16: NYU

**Yay, I got more reviews than usual and it makes me very happy. Again, shout out to Magnus57 for your great lengthy reviews. I always enjoy reading them and I do hope that my future updates will continue to please you. **

**Now, let us get down to business.**

**P.S: Keep reviewing ;-)**

"Really Serena, this summer was incredible. Beyond words." Blair stated as she browsed her wardrobe for an outfit.

Tomorrow was the fourth of September which was in other words, the beginning of her journey at NYU. However torturous the experience might prove to be, Blair would suffer it in style,as she had done with mostly everything in her life.

She briefly stopped. The back of her wardrobe was the weaponry and until that very moment where her eyes fell on it, Blair had managed to keep every thought of Cercle 19 far away from her mind. Some things could never be escaped.

Her trip to Paris had lasted the whole of August, including the last two weeks of July, and Blair had come back on the first. This was Serena's first visit since her return and Blair was so happy to see her friend. She realized that she had missed her much more than she had expected and she had a lot to talk about.

"So I take it Chuck was exemplary with you?" Serena teased from the other end of her room.

Her friend wore a flowery maxi dress that showed off her golden tan. Blair envied her. Her sojourn in Paris had been sunny enough but the sun rays did not seem to like her skin very much. She had come back as pale as usual.

"Well not in bed, obviously." Blair teased making them break off into giggles. "But in every other aspect, he was so unlike himself. Do you know that he made me walk throughout the city and bought me everything my eyes fell upon. It didn't matter what it was! So I went back to the hotel with a basket of mushrooms from the market, a vintage motorbike that I didn't even know how to ride…I mean really, do I look like someone who rides motorbikes? And I also had flowers of any kind, coffee packets, a Chanel purse…"

"That seems a bit excessive. How did you even carry all these things?" Her friend asked with a chuckle.

Blair remembered the limo that had been awaiting them at every corner they had decided to explore. Chuck said he didn't like walking very much from one iconic place to the other so instead, they took the car, however short the distance was. Blair had pleaded once or twice about taking long walks, aimless walks just to soak in the spirit of the city, but after noticing his lack of enthusiasm, she decided not to press the matter further. He was already so nice, nicer than she had ever known him, and these details were only superficial.

"Well, he had a limo follow us around. The motorbike was delivered to our hotel room. It's at my father's house right now. I told Roman he could use it and he seemed happy enough. It is apparently the best way to get around the city, or any city in Europe nowadays."

"I'm really happy for you Blair, you know that? God knows we have all been cheering up for the two of you. I think we were all getting sick of watching you scheme and lie and flirt all the same when it was so obvious you loved each other. Nate said he was going to lock the two of you up until you would come out holding hands. And he was going to sit outside until it happens!"

"Silly Nate." Blair said affectionately.

"I convinced him otherwise! I told him that he would probably end up overhearing things he wouldn't want to hear."

"But what about you?" Blair asked her. "Tell me of your summer. I want to know, even if mine was probably better."

Blair stuck her tongue out while Serena raised her eyebrows in mocked surprise.

"You should know that even if my summer was not filled with passionate sex and boyfriends buying me whatever my eyes fell on, I still had things going." Serena replied.

"Which were?" Blair inquired.

She was struggling to decide between a Missoni silk blazer of a brick red shade and a BCBG frilly ochre blouse made of crepe. She laid them out one after the other on top of her bed where her knee-length pencil skirt reposed. The dark green of the skirt was better complimented with the yellowish shade of the BCBG blouse so she discarded the Missoni blazer and gave it to Dorota who had just entered the room to set back the dry cleaning.

"I made two decisions, very important ones." Serena stated seriously. "Well, they are important to me and I'm sure you will be agreeing with one of the two at least. First, I don't think I'm going to university, at least not yet. I may try one semester, but I feel I'm not made for studies. I never was. And like you said, I probably just got in because of my socialite habits. I don't want to go to school thinking that I didn't really deserve to be in, or to think of you all the time when I know you should be the one in my place."

"Serena!" Blair exclaimed, feeling a rush of emotion at her friend's words."I know you think that I'm still angry, or jealous about that. But I'm not. I'm reconciled with the fact that NYU is my school and I'm going to make the best of it. If anything, this is a test. This is the world trying to shove me back into abandon but I won't let it do this to me. I will only work twice harder. Then my merits will be much more spectacular."

Serena was watching her, she realized. The truth was, Blair still felt strongly about it and no amount of Chuck Bass telling her that he loves her was going to atone her regrets. It did help though and whenever Blair found herself wondering about the morrow and the new foreign places and students that NYU was, she immediately made herself recall Paris. Paris and Chuck together. It had almost seemed perfect. It would have _been_ perfect if he had accepted to take walks, or ventured to sit on a bench on the Place de la Tour Eiffel just to admire the many passersby, or again to take a picnic in the charming parks instead of always dining at one fancy bistro after the other.

"I believe you when you say that B. It's not even a question. You _will _achieve great things. You're a queen."

"Glad we are on the same page." Blair said. "Now, what about the second decision? I want to hear that one before I go on a lecture about the importance of having a university degree."

"I'm moving on from Dan. This time, once and for all."

This made Blair stop in her tracks for a second. She wished Serena would not talk about Dan but she knew it was inevitable. Her friend had obviously been waiting all summer to vent her feelings and after all the Chuck talk Blair has been bestowing on her, it was only fair to allow Serena to do the same about Dan.

To say that she had not thought about Dan was completely false.

He had been in her mind every single day during the summer. It was quite dreadful since usually, she needed to actually see him to remember his existence. Miles away from him, Brooklyn and his stupid curly hair, with the man she loved and he had still managed to infiltrate her thoughts.

She wondered what he had been doing during his summer and pictured him sitting on his sofa, the same one they had shared on that night, watching movie after movie with a mug of surprisingly good tea. And every time the picture arose in her mind, she thought about how she wished she could simply join him. But she could not. That night had been a mistake in all aspects. Nobody thought them friends, not even themselves. It would seem abnormal for Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf to meet in his loft nonetheless and _casually _chat about movies.

But hugging him had felt surprisingly good. As much as she tried to keep away any comparison with Chuck from her mind (because that would mean that she considered Dan an eligible boyfriend which was in itself entirely revolting), Blair had never felt that much comfort from any of her current boyfriend's embraces. Sure, they made her feel good and desirable. And yes, she felt a relatively good amount of safety, mainly from knowing that _she _was the one in his arms instead of some Japanese lady from the pleasure houses Chuck liked to visit.

But Dan Humphrey's hug was so natural, as if she had somehow always belonged there. It was a scary thought that this young man, with whom she had never shared as much as an accidental brush of the shoulder, could make her feel so devoid of worries in the vicinity of his arms. Which were quite well-muscled if Blair remembered correctly.

It was why she had chosen to ignore him as best as she could until she at least found a way to deal with the situation.

She wondered if he was mad at her.

_He must be mad at me. I leave, giving him now news of his father…And I'm Blair. He never liked me before and now he has every reason not to._

The thought made her feel uneasy.

"You think I should have moved on a long time ago, I know that Blair." Serena continued. "You're right of course. I don't know why I was holding on to him. It's obviously over, at least from his part."

"What makes you think that?" Blair asked with curiosity. She sat down next to Serena, somehow more interested in the matter than she should have been.

"Well…Okay, don't laugh at me, but I tried to,you know, ask him out during the summer." Serena said before quickly adding in response to Blair's look. "Oh, I specified we were going just as friends! Don't worry about that."

"Yeah, because specifying isn't exactly what gives you away." Blair retorted.

Serena looked a little bit depressed so Blair promised she would stop interrupting her. The truth was, even if Blair had always disapproved of the Dan and Serena saga, she knew that they had loved each other. She could not ridicule the situation, especially since Serena had been a witness to far worse from Blair's part.

"We went out to that gelato place down the street from the penthouse. He was so distant. He didn't even try to sound interested when I was talking about not going to university. So you know, I tried to ask about himself, if he was excited for NYU. That got me a little more enthusiasm but still, it was like he wished I would finish my ice cream so that he could leave. I don't know why, it seemed like he was angry with me when I'm the one who has all the reasons! He is still just as disinterested. I deserve better than that, I know I do."

Serena never tolerated well not being given the amount of attention she was used to get from the opposite sex. She was accustomed to a certain standard, after years of being the object of attention of close to every male specimen around. She expected devotion and compliments, regrets and apologies and easy forgiveness for any of her bad deeds. And she always obtained all of those. Despite Serena's obvious sorrow, Blair felt a vicious pleasure from seeing her experience what Blair had lived through several times. For once, Blair saw Serena truly long for someone's attention instead of taking it for granted.

_So he has finally come to his senses, _Blair thought.

"I think you have made a good decision." Blair said as a way to cheer her up and to feel less guilty about her unkind thought. "I'm sure that now that you will be going different places, pursuing different interests, you won't even have time to think of him and he won't have time to think of you. You'll meet someone else Serena. You always do. It's written somewhere in your book of destiny. It won't be long before you come to me about a certain Pete or Xavier or whatever. Just you see."

The problem with Dan and Serena was exactly that; _Dan _and _Serena._ Her friend was loving in her own manner but she could never love consistently. That was Serena's flaw and any man who wished to be with her had to be somehow accepting of her nature. She could be fully devoted to a relationship for a few weeks and then relinquish all responsibilities when her mind got tired of it or when she felt she could not deal with the problems that naturally arose. When Serena had slept with Nate, she had just left without a word. She believed you could make your problems vanish by ignoring them or that you could always decide _when _you can feel committing and when you can't.

And Dan was the exact opposite. Blair had found his attachment to Serena sickening. He was too devoted, ready to throw aside whatever urgent business to spend time with her and while Blair could identify with that quality, she found it entirely unfitting when it came to Serena. Watching them together was like watching a careless master with its loyal dog. It could almost break one's heart.

"But I love him." Serena said quietly.

Blair watched her sigh, as if the confession took away all her breath.

"If it's meant to be Serena, it will happen. Look at me and Chuck. If _we _could do it, then I'm certain anyone can."

**The limo felt too comfortable and the thought of leaving its confines to plunge headfirst into the unknown areas of NYU made Blair's stomach lurch disagreeably. **It didn't matter that Chuck sat next to her, his hand laying securely on her left thigh. She was still nervous.

"Remember Blair. Don't expect too much of the people in there." Chuck said encouragingly. "Just rely on yourself and you should be fine, like you always have."

She mentally checked everything. Her schedule was safely printed and stuck on her Lacroix diary along with a list of the different pavilions and campuses. The notebook that Blair had bought specially for Yale had found itself in her bag, on its way to NYU too.

"There is nothing much to expect from them anyway." Blair replied, trying to put on a brave face.

She was still getting used to having a supportive Chuck around her so she had to be excused for not willingly admitting any insecurity easily. It was just a precaution.

The limo finally came to a stop. It was close to ten in the morning. Her class wouldn't start until 10:30.

From the window, Blair could see an affluence of students, all uniform-less and sporting clothing she could swear she had never seen nor thought of in her life. There were leggings that seemed to have been attacked by wildcats and motorcycle boots on _girls_! A few wore sweat pants with neon tank tops while others were clad in tribal patterns, ironic messages and, well, plaid. There was not one structured outfit to be found, at least, not from where she sat; no blazers or court shoes. Nothing remotely close to what she was wearing. Her heart skipped a beat.

She will stand out. And judging from this establishment and those who frequented it, it would not be in a good way.

Chuck got out with her.

"Do you know where your dorm room is? God, I hate the thought of you sharing a room with anyone who isn't me."

"Yes, I know where it is. I told Dorota to decorate it for me while I was away. I really do hope she did her homework well."

He chuckled lightly and leaned on the limo. He wore a pale blue shirt with light grey pants and a pair of shiny beige loafers. Anyone else would have looked nothing short of ridiculous but her man managed to pull it off. He and his outfit were the only thing tying her to her world and she wanted to cling to him and never let go.

"And your roommate?" Chuck inquired as he gently straightened one of the frills on her blouse.

"I have no idea who it is." She replied.

Blair stood with her back facing the great building, not wanting to confront it just yet. Her boyfriend (for he really was just that, her _boyfriend_) leaned in to kiss her and she waited for it eagerly but it never came. Her eyes opened and she saw Chuck was staring to their left.

"However much you try to avoid Brooklyn, it always comes back to haunt you." He said under his breath.

Blair turned to her left. It was Dan Humphrey but it was not the same person she had left before embarking on her trip with Chuck.

For one, he was considerably taller. He had lost weight and it could be seen from the way his jawline had become sharper and how his cheekbones seemed more visible.

_Gosh, did he starve himself or something?_ And why did she care?

He wore a simple t-shirt with some obsolete print on it that looked like an old poster of a black and white movie. His leather bag bounced on his left thigh as he walked towards the entrance. He was wearing Ray Ban aviators, just like the one Hugh Grant had in that movie they had watched together. She remembered telling him that he could not pull them off.

Blair had been wrong. He did pull them off. Combined with his new, more refined body, Dan Humphrey looked almost attractive and she had looked towards him a little longer than necessary.

Dan did see them from afar but he made no movement in their direction, continuing instead towards the entrance of the school building. He did not smile, nor did he acknowledge their presence. It hurt Blair more than it should.

"Humphrey finally learned his place." Chuck said with a grin. "I don't think I could have pretended to care if he had decided to say hi."

"Me neither." She replied, seemingly indifferent.

The walk to her dorm room was a torturous experience and one that she most definitely had to get used to. It seemed the whole of the student population was in the dorms, hanging around the corridors, moving boxes of objects in, out and across the rooms, and talking, talking like they had spent their whole summer in forced silence. She had less than fifteen minutes to go to class but she figured she should check on Dorota's work before. She walked head high of course but it didn't seem to discourage anyone from staring. Her outfit suddenly felt too dressy, a feeling she had never experienced before.

Her roommate was not there which was a relief because she was not in the mood to make small talk with anyone. She looked around, judging Dorota's work. The bed was smaller than the one in her room back at the penthouse but it was roomy enough for comfort. The walls were covered with a light and subtle victorian pattern and there even was a white, elegant-looking vanity in the corner. Compared to the glimpses she had had of the other people's rooms (she had seen old television sets, overflowing bookshelves, wooden beds that looked like jail bunks, incredibly tacky rock band posters and sad, faded bedsheets) Blair realized hers seemed like a paradise. Her roommate's side was empty of anything and Blair hoped that after all, she would have all the room for herself.

She closed the door, drowning the sounds of laughing and coarse cursing behind her.

"I'm not going to cry." She told herself. "I won't."

Her first class was called _Introduction to Journalistic Writing _and it was filled nerdy-glassed wannabe writers who looked like they could write weekly columns on underground bands and graffiti arts. Many already knew each other and chatted joyously before the professor arrived and after the class was dismissed. She knew no one and consequently, she sat alone and left alone.

So when she caught a glimpse of Dan in the jungle that the main corridor was, Blair ran towards him as fast as her heels could take her.

"Humphrey." She screamed. "Humphrey!"

The second time, Dan turned around. He frowned when he saw who it was.

When she caught up with him (who had continued walking at the same pace, visibly not wanting to be overtaken), she realized she had nothing to say. Well, she had a lot to say but nothing came to her mind the way she wanted to phrase it.

"Well, hello to you, girl who attempted to murder my father and then left without the slightest attempt to give an explanation." Dan said without looking at her. "Even NYU isn't large enough for the two of us not to meet. I'm disappointed."

He sounded cold, and with good reasons but she couldn't help feeling piqued by his remark.

"I'm here now?" Blair offered. "I'm sorry if I thought we were not ready to be friends—"

"Friends?" Dan said, laughing derisively. "You think I'm mad because you don't think we should be _friends_? It's not kindergarten anymore, or Constance for that matter. I tried, you didn't and that's that. The only reason I'm angry here is because even if I'm not your friend, I deserve to know what's going to happen to my father. You owe it to me and it seems you can't even honour that. That is why I am angry."

He still refused to look at her, opting instead to focus on a distant point in front of him. The line of his jaw was set hard, as if he was grinding it with all his will to prevent himself from screaming. Blair could finally see the print of his shirt. It read _Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, _on top of a picture of a frightful, pale-faced silhouette. She was a stranger to that movie but thankfully, Dan was not in the mood to discuss movies. Or anything for that matter.

"Alright."Blair said, assuming a severe tone. "I'm going to inquire about your father and then I will report back to you. I'm sorry if my summer in Paris has made me quite disconnected to anyone who could give me any information."

"How did you even manage to spend a whole summer in Paris without bothering to give my father a thought? Did you enjoy yourself over there, even after what happened?"

His words were like a slap to the face. It seemed that Dan had not just changed physically, or may be it is the physical change that brought about this daring, cold-spoken and free of rambling Humphrey. He basically just called her an insensitive bitch.

"Watch it Humphrey." Blair felt the need to warn, "Just because we aren't in Constance anymore, doesn't mean I can't ruin your life. I have done it before and I can do it again."

He laughed openly, this time looking her straight in the eyes.

"What are you going to do exactly?"He asked."Drop my things to the floor and kick them around? Send a text to Gossip Girl about me having an affair with a professor? Go ahead. If you're aiming to be kicked out, that is the right way to go."

"You're just as insolent as your sister." Blair snarled, somehow still following him as he opened the door to get outside.

"Just for the record Blair. This is exactly my environment. I would have more chances to ruin _your_ life than you could ever have to get anyone to believe you. Nobody cares about how rich you are or how expensive and blue-blooded your outfit looks."

Dan took out his Ray Bans and put them on. It was sunny outside and Blair looked around to see that they were at a green area with picnic tables here and there where students sat down to study and chat. She saw many a one laying down on the grass, an opened book aside and a bag for a pillow.

"Anyway, you need to understand something." Dan said. "You can't have ruined my life already more than you did when you sent my father into hiding. Anything more than that would be heartless, but that seems to be exactly what you are."

He stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms over his chest.

This Dan Humphrey was something. He bothered her, enraged her, made her feel guiltier than anybody had ever made her feel in her life but it was…it was interesting.

"What happened to you over the summer?" Blair asked, forgetting the need to insult him or to contest his accusations.

Her question seemed to momentarily destabilize him and for a second, his brown eyes regained their usual warmth, as if he had wanted nothing else than to be asked about his , she never got to hear his answer as he was hailed by some beautiful, dark-skinned girl Blair had never seen.

"Dan! You are like five minutes late. This is an outrage." The girl said laughingly.

Blair eyed her openly. She didn't care to be subtle with people of Humphrey's entourage. Everything the girl wore resembled something that Vanessa Abrams would have, except that she was a little edgier in her look. Her leggings were of leather with dangerous studs around the ankles. Her shoes were those Jeffrey Campbells that Blair had always sworm against mainly because they looked like prostitute wear to her. A dark red short-sleeved blazer complimented the outfit along with an actual leather backpack. Her hair was short in a bob and as black as the leather of her leggings. Blair was not sure if she liked her style or not but at least, she did look like she put some thoughts into it, unlike most of the people around.

"I was delayed Leila." Dan replied. "Won't happen again."

She was taller than Dan with her heels. It made Blair feel a little like a midget.

"So, is that a friend of yours?" Leila asked with a smirk.

_What is she smirking for?_Blair thought angrily.

"An acquaintance, yes." Dan specified. "This is Blair Waldorf. She is my ex's best friend and adores to torture people in her spare time. Blair, meet Leila, a friend of mine and a fellow Literature undergraduate."

She knew what he was doing and this got an involuntary smile from her, despite having been introduced as a torturer. He was referencing _Bridget Jones' Diary,_ more specifically, the scene where Bridget decides to take her friend's advice and introduce people with "thoughtful details", ending up being the butt of the joke herself*. If only someone she knew could make an appearance just so that she could give it back to him.

The way he looked at her confirmed that he had been very much conscious of the reference and though he didn't give her one of those playful smiles of his, Blair felt that she could be forgiven. And apparently, she now lived in a dimension where Dan's forgiveness seemed to matter to her.

"Ouch," Leila exclaimed after hearing Dan's words. "Don't think I want to be friends with you."

The two of them laughed while Blair forced herself to smile.

"Well luckily, nobody is forcing you to." Blair replied.

With that, she left the two of them with a strong feeling of dislike for that Leila girl.

**She did not spend the night in her room. **It was too early for that. She didn't go to Chuck's place either. She was not ready to tell him about her day, even if his snark remarks on the student population would do well to cheer her up.

Blair took a long shower, changed into a satin negligee and took to her bed. That was the end of her first day at NYU and she had no idea how to feel about it.

She promised herself she would call Ludovic on the morrow and ask about Dan's father.

At the same time, she would have to learn about her next mission.

From what Bart Bass told her on the day before she left to Paris, he needed her for a most secretive mission, one for which she would have to use all of her skills. Blair was more than ready. After her first kill and the long hiatus in Paris, she wanted to do get back in the game. Once you are in, you can never get out, as Dan had told her.

In that moment, safely tucked under the blanket of her bed, Blair could never have guessed that Dan would prove himself to be a competition for that kill. She could never have fathomed that her initial guess, after Foreman's murder would turn out to be right.

In three weeks' time, she was about to learn that Dan Humphrey was also a killer.

***If you have not watched **_**Bridget Jones' Diary**_**, I suggest you watch the particular scene on in "Bridget Jones Perpetua" and it should be the first video called "Bridget Jones Diary Making Introductions". It's an amazing scene in the movie and one that I feel relates so much to Dan and Blair.**

**Also, I made Blair wear a green and yellow outfit because those are the significant colours of our ship ;-). This Leila girl, you will soon learn, is not a love interest for Dan but more like his partner in crime. I felt he needed to be introduced to a mentor of sorts and it also shows that he is becoming more trusted among Fawkes' circle. But of course, Blair doesn't know that ;-)**

**Next chapter is exciting because *drum rolls* Blair will finally find out about Dan's secret. Lots, lots of physical moments, banter and angst coming up.**

**Also, I will update Haughtiness and Judgement soon and I have a new fic in the making!**

**In that one, Dan and Blair find themselves working together at W, ten years after she left him for Chuck. The funny thing? He is her boss.**

**I hope that will be of interest to you because you have given me the enthusiasm and confidence to write! I love you all.**

**And keep reviewing ;-)**


	17. Chapter 17: Discretion

**I promise to update this fic before any of the others. It's my little baby and although my newest story, At W, seemed to generate a lot of good reviews, I'm never going to neglect this one :-). Anyways, I welcome the new readers (I love you already) and my dear moviegal102. I missed your reviews.**

**So without further ado, here is the next chapter :-)**

**Also, keep reviewing.**

She sat in Bart Bass' office, waiting to hear about her next mission. He was writing down something and she wouldn't have distracted him for the world. He seemed the type of man who didn't take distraction very well. Instead, she wondered about his life. Did he live in this building, surrounded by the same people and wearing a mask whenever a stranger was around? It seemed unreal that someone should impose such a life of secrecy upon himself. Did he even go out?

"Alright." Bart stated. "How was your summer?"

"Great, thank you." Blair replied. She prayed he would't ask her about Chuck. It would be too awkward, so instead, she returned the question. "How about yours?"

Bart folded the paper he had been writing on and slipped it in an envelop in one swift movement, all the while without taking his eyes off of her.

"It was splendid. I went to Thailand for a month. For once, I did not have to worry about business."

The sort of things this sort of man did in Thailand very much likely involved pleasure houses. There was no way he had not visited one. This was his vice, just like Chuck and if those two were kept away from their girlfriend or wife for too long, they _would _cheat. It hurt her a little to believe something like that about Chuck. He still had to prove himself.

"Anyways, enough talk about vacations" Bart said as if they had spent hours discussing their summer and not just a quarter of a minute. "You surely remember that I have spoken to you about a mission before you left?"

She nodded.

"Another kill, sir?" Blair asked.

"Of course. This time though, it won't take place anywhere in the city. It is a little bit on the outskirt, at an old warehouse. Not exactly your type of place. So it is understood that you have to attract no attention whatsoever when you get there? Blend in, wear jeans and a hoodie but do not, in any way compromise your identity."

_Jeans? A hoodie?_

If killing people hadn't been enough to put her off Cercle 19, wearing jeans and a hoodie could just do the trick. She suppressed a cry of protest, knowing too well that it would not be welcome.

"His name is Will Emery. Picture is here." Bart handed her his file. "Our client is currently in a drug war with the man. On Tuesday, the seventh of October, in two weeks, Mr. Emery will be at the warehouse for a meeting with providers. This has been confirmed to us by one of the providers who works for our client. This man will be requesting a private audience with Emery under the pretence of discussing an important deal. Plans of the building are inside the document. I have circled where the discussion will most likely take place."

Blair looked through the map of the building. It had one huge room which was evidently the storeroom and a series of corridors and stairs leading to adjacent rooms on the sides. The place that was circled in red was located at a far corner on the second floor. She wondered how she would get there without being noticed.

"Any questions?" Bart asked in a tone that didn't encourage any inquiries.

Blair took a calming breath. She had a promise to keep and she would do it. She owed it to him.

"I have a request. Not a question." She said.

He watched her with his icy blue eyes. Blair felt he was daring her to speak and if it hadn't been for the thought of Dan's father forced into living in hiding, she would have probably ended up saying nothing.

"I want Mr. Humphrey to be able to come back to New York without any risk for his safety. I want him back by the end of December so he can spend Christmas here."

She noticed how different he was from Chuck in that moment. His face had become so still, unable to betray any emotion even if it had wanted to. It was thinner, and more elongated than Chuck's and his eyes were so pale, and so cold. Perhaps, Chuck had retained that aspect from his father; the way their eyes seemed to have been created to express anger and discontent.

"What do you think puts you in a good position to make such requests?"He answered.

"I work for you. I ask no questions. I will kill anyone, as long as they are not people I know and care about." Blair stated.

"You care about Rufus Humphrey?" Mr. Bass said as if she had told a particularly funny joke.

"Perhaps I do."

"I can get any other person to execute the missions, you are aware of that? You're very, _very _dispensable."

"Am I?" Blair raised an eyebrow. "I seem to have forgotten the time you told me that I was your most valuable element."

He continued staring at her. She would lose, she could feel it. But then, he smiled. It was not a smirk, or a mockery. It was a true smile.

"I can see why my son loves you. It is also why I married Lily. Women with character always fascinated me."

"Is that a yes?" Blair asked full of hope.

"How will he be brought back? I have no clue as to where he is and if he is hiding, it would be really hard to stumble upon him. Also, I'm not going to bother too much about it."

"I will personally take care of it. I think his son may be in contact with him." Blair replied, trying so hard to keep herself composed.

A part of her was too happy even if it didn't make sense. She wanted to call Dan immediately and tell him, really _tell him _that his father would come back. No, she didn't want to call him. She wanted to see him in person. It was as if her own father had been brought back to her, as if she was feeling all that Dan would be feeling and not one bit of it was rational.

Bart Bass had agreed. That was all that mattered to her.

**The two weeks had passed and Blair found out just how much Dan had been right when he had said that NYU was his environment. **She had hoped that two weeks would have been enough to make quite a large amount of acquaintances but she must have been either plagued with a contagious virus or plain socially awkward. She had met no one.

In her quest to find Dan for a private audience (so that she could communicate to him the good news at last), Blair had failed miserably. Every time she had seen Dan Humphrey, he was surrounded by people, the group getting bigger day by day. He made a habit of hanging out in the green area, where he and his new friends had gathered two picnic tables in order to fit everyone. A lot of them were girls, hipsters with cropped shirts and uninteresting choice of shoe wear who sat around him and actually flirted. Or at least, that's how Blair interpreted their looks through their large, outdated glasses and the way they kept laughing nonstop, as if they had become the soundtrack to his words.

She was jealous of him. Sometimes, he would give her a look as she passed by, as if he remembered her presence. Once, he asked her to join them but that was like asking the Russians to sit with the Americans and discuss their respective exploits. It could not be managed.

She tried to tell herself that she was not jealous of those girls either, who got to sit with him and listen to him talking about literature and movies, who also go to debate with him and exchange opinions and laugh at his jokes. And it didn't even make one ounce of sense that she suddenly cared for his ramblings, but they did sound nice, now that his voice had become deeper, more manly.

Consequently, two weeks had passed and she did not get to tell him anything. She had a mind to send him a text and be done with it, but she was conscious that they had never texted before. Thank God, the seventh had finally arrived. She needed the distraction.

**Dorota had bought her a pair of jeans and a hoodie after Blair had told her that she could not be caught dead shopping for any of those. **Her maid had gone to a shop called Old Navy and got her a marine blue hoodie which was two sizes larger than what she usually wore. The pair of jeans was an abomination, a thing with a faded wash that Blair associated with construction workers but it fit her well. She still thought that jeans were the most uncomfortable thing a girl could ever wear.

In front of her mirror, she looked so different. She looked so common. May be _that _would help her make friends in NYU.

"Is the decoy ready?"Blair asked her maid.

"Yes. You want me to call so you check?" Dorota answered.

Blair acquiesced while rummaging through a backpack, also an acquisition that Dorota had made for her yesterday. Her silent gun was there, with the plans of the building, her favourite combat knife and pepper-spray. According to Bart, there would be no interference if she made sure to reach the second floor through the alternate route passing by the entrance on the west side of the building. She studied the plan one last time in order to make sure that she understood everything.

"Here she is Miss Blair." Dorota said as she came back.

Her decoy was a girl of about her height and who had the same dark brown hair. Dorota had dressed her up in something that seemed typical of Blair: a muslin frilly shirt with a fine wool skirt. The girl was the daughter of Dorota's friend who was told a minimal amount of things and who believe she was servicing a rebellious teenager who wanted to go to a party behind her parents' back. Her payment would be all the clothes she was wearing, which in themselves cost a fortune.

"Give her the sunglasses." Blair said. "And you understand you are not supposed to take them off under any circumstances? You take them off and you can kiss the coat goodbye. I don't even think you would want to anyway. They are Dior after all."

The girl just nodded, too busy she was in admiring her newly-acquired Burberry trench.

"Wait for me next to elevator." Dorota urged her.

When she had left, her maid turned towards her.

"Are you ready Miss Blair? I'm so worried for you. Drug dealers have guns too and they get crazy when they high!"

Blair really didn't want Dorota to install in her any fear and doubt, especially since she had been feeling pretty confident about this mission. Now that she thought of it, she would be far away from her city bubble, wearing sad clothes in an even sadder building. If she died during this mission, it would be the most miserable death she could have imagined for herself.

"I've done it once. I can only do it better." She replied before hugging her maid. "Now go! Keep her occupied until well after eight. I will call you when I'm done."

Dorota prayed for her in Polish before kissing both of her cheeks and making her way out.

**The taxi ride had taken a good hour and by the time they had reached her destination, the city line had shrunken considerably and the amount of people on the streets neared zero. **What was this place?

She paid for the ride and got off. She had asked to be dropped two streets before the warehouse so that she would attract less attention on herself. If there was a drug deal being made, there will surely be people on the lookout.

So Blair walked up the street, meeting no one in particular. The region was mostly industrial, with a fast-food space and a gas station that both looked sinister. A few apartment buildings could be seen from afar but they looked like vertical jails to her. Being so far away from anything remotely sophisticated actually made her nervous and she found herself liking Brooklyn for the first time in her life. Brooklyn was charming compared to this godforsaken place.

The western side of the building was covered by a small wood composed of unhealthy-looking trees. In the midst of it, Blair knew that she would get to the back entrance without being seen. There were a lot of squirrels with inquiring eyes though.

However, as she got closer, her sense of security faltered. She heard footsteps somewhere near her that made her stop immediately in her tracks. If she was found by anyone, at this time, she would have to kill. Her body count would increase to two.

Blair quietly crouched and opened her bag, hoping the sound of the zipper wouldn't give her away. She took out her gun, preparing herself for an eventual attack.

She watched silently until she saw the silhouette. It was about ten meters away, also crouching behind a tree.

_I won't kill unnecessarily. If this fool leaves, I'll carry on. If he delays me, I won't have a choice… _

The meeting was supposed to take place at 6:30 in the afternoon. It was exactly six at the moment.

_Come on, come on! Get out of here. _

She thought this could be a random stoner, taking a puff in the woods away from other people's eyes. That is until the man stood up and revealed himself to be no other than Dan Humphrey.

She let out an exclamation of disbelief and he heard her. His eyes quickly spotted her but she was no more concerned about remaining hidden.

"What are you doing here?" Blair asked him under her breath as she approached him. "Did you follow me?"

He was all clad in black. There was a school bag on the ground, half-buried in the earth and covered with fallen leaves.

"I..I found you through Gossip Girl." He answered hesitatingly.

His right arm was hidden from her in the most suspicious manner and the way he averted her eyes was more than enough to raise concern.

"Liar." She replied, taking out her phone from her pocket. "Even if the signal is low in this hole of a place, I can show you right now that Gossip Girl has me spotted near Benetton. Hell I made sure she would. _I'm on a mission._"

"Well, you're clearly not there." Dan replied, raising his eyebrow.

"And you clearly did not find me through Gossip Girl! I will repeat it one more time. What. Are you. Doing. here?"

"I wanted to see how Blair Waldorf looked in jeans and a hoodie." Dan said with a mocking smile, eyeing her openly which made her blush in self-consciousness. He then adopted a more serious tone. "No. Actually…how do I say this?"

He stopped talking.

"Someone is here!" He whispered urgently.

Blair's heart jumped with adrenaline. Now that it came to it, she _was _afraid. She was terrified. She had never met any drug dealers, had never come close to a dark alley in the city. These people were criminals. They most likely knew how to deal with intruders.

"What do we do?" She asked, completely forgetting about the how and why he had come upon her.

They heard definite footsteps coming from the direction of the warehouse. Dan grabbed her by the arm not ungently and pulled her into his chest in one swift movement. He then pushed her against the tree so that her back was in contact with it. She felt her heart race, not sure if it was from the upcoming danger or from something else.

"What are you doing?" She blurted in confusion.

"We have to pretend we're kissing." Dan stated as if it was the most natural solution.

"_Pretend we're kissing?_"She repeated in disbelief. "I…I have a boyfriend!"

"Don't I know it." Dan replied, while he drew her hood further down so that her face was hidden from him. She could only see his mouth and chin. "But I have a plan, and if you value the future of your mission, you better just comply. And by the way, I said "pretend" to kiss. Don't worry, my tainted mouth won't touch your lips, princess."

Before she could protest any further, he had approached his face to hers, bending down so that he could be at level with her. The edge of her hood now covered him too. One of his hand gripped her neck securely and Blair felt its warmth even through the fabric of her hoodie. His other arm, his right one, was nowhere near her.

They were staring at each other straight in the eye and the proximity made Blair's breath quicken. She saw the almost imperceptible look he gave her lips, as if he was looking at something he would never have. The tip of his nose touched hers. She swallowed, entirely puzzled by this strange intimacy as their warm breaths mingled, each at the same rhythm as the other.

"Who's here?" They heard a rough voice call out. "Show yourselves!"

"We aren't looking very believable." Blair whispered, trying her best to avoid looking at his lips. "We're like statues."

"Alright." Dan replied quietly. "You asked for it."

For a split second, she really believed he was going for her lips, and for a split second, she almost made the decision to meet him halfway. Instead, his lips fell on her cheek while hers found his. Her hands found his neck of their own will, pushing him forward. He moved her body against hers and she shamelessly revelled in every hard muscle she could feel. His lips were so soft, so gentle. She couldn't help but realize how different his pseudo kisses were from Chuck's. The way his lips imperceptibly brushed her cheek seemed motivated by tenderness, not lust. And no, she was not thinking that Dan could have any tender feeling for her. This was sorely about saving her ass. Or was it?

As for herself, she let her lips graze his jaw as he moved, afraid to allow herself to do anything that she would regret later on.

"Keep moving." He whispered against her ear and the warmth of his breath sent a jolt of misplaced pleasure through her. She noticed his voice was hoarse.

_Of course it would be. There is a man who could be possibly harmful nearby._

She obeyed his demand nonetheless, putting one of her arms around his lower back and pretending she was switching angle.

How could she feel so safe and so warm when danger was threatening to break any minute?

"HEY!" The man bellowed from somewhere in their left. "This is a private property lovebirds!"

Her heart was threatening to break out her ribcage.

"Don't do anything." Dan murmured close to her ear. He wrapped his arm around her waist while his lips left her cheek. She kept moving mechanically, unaware of what she was doing. She wondered what his plan was and why she even trusted him in the first place. What did he know of combat. Nothing! She was the one with the weapons after all!

The man's steps seemed to resonate only a few feet away. She looked at Dan, silently communicating to him that she hoped his plan would work.

"You guys deaf or something?"

The steps got closer.

"Well, you leave me no choice." The man said and she felt the impact of his hand on Dan's shoulder.

What she hadn't expected was Dan's reaction. He immediately left the confines of her hood, allowing the cool air to reach her flushed face. In one movement, he twisted the man's arm to immobilize it behind his arm, taking advantage of the moment of surprise.

The man howled in pain, while Dan pushed him onto the ground, using his arm as a lever and putting his foot on the small of his back.

Blair could see the hint of a gun in his pocket and immediately made for it. She retrieved it and put it in the pocket of her hoodie, where her other gun was.

"I'm sorry." Dan said. "But this is necessary."

Blair watched him grab the stranger by his head and smash it violently against the tree trunk which had been previously occupied by them.

"Oh God! Is he dead?" She exclaimed.

He wasn't even breathing hard, as if the whole thing had cost him nothing.

"You clearly have not done your homework Blair. I forgive you. You're still new to the killing business." Dan said before he bent down to make sure the man was out.

There was blood on his forehead and pieces of bark but he seemed to be breathing, although a little slowly.

"How did you do this? How did you get him on the ground in one movement? How are you even strong enough to knock him out in one try?" She asked, wanting him to face her.

After laying him against the tree trunk, he used the man's shoelace to tie his hand up expertly, ignoring her question.

"Humphrey! Answer me!" She ordered, kicking him lightly in the tibia.

He turned towards her, his hair slightly messy from the physical non-fight he had just gone through.

"You don't get it yet? I'm a killer too."was his answer.

With that, he retrieved a gun from the pocket of his black pants, as if he thought she needed further proof.

For a second, she didn't know what to think but even if she had any clear idea, it apparently had to wait.

"We have less than thirty minutes Blair. You can scream and hate me all you want after this but we got to get moving. This guy isn't going to get killed by himself."

She had to admit that he was right.

**Alright my dear readers! I had quite a lot of fun writing this one. I do hope it pleases you. I did say it was going to have some goodness in it. I'm actually going to continue with Blair's point of view in the next chapter too before we get Dan's. **

**I think that by now, it is safe to say that they are both obviously attracted to each other to some extent but they are also both in denial. Dan for once, still resents her about his father. And she is still denying, as she knows how to do best. I'm not planning to put them together yet. There is still a lot of build-up to be had. I hope it doesn't discourage you :-)**

**Leave a review if you can! It'll make my day :-)**


	18. Chapter 18: Warehouse

**I tried to update as early as I could for you dear Magnus57! I cannot stress enough how much I love all of your reviews. **

**I'm sorry for the time it took. My internet provider was suddenly changed by my father and I actually am at my aunt's house now so that I can finally upload the chapter!**

**I am so very glad that the latest chapter was good! I know everyone wanted them to kiss, but as I've said before, it'll happen in a much better context. We still need more build up :-)**

**Anyways, keep reviewing. I love you all!**

"Who are you here to kill?"Dan asked her as they approached the back entrance.

"Emery." She replied, following him behind. She hated to see herself struggle to keep up with his pace.

She hated to think that he was more accomplished than her.

"Good, we've got the same guy." Dan said. "This should make the task easier, unless you decide to do something stupid."

"_Something stupid_?" She echoed indignantly."I would have you know that I have been trained too! And I have killed already."

"Yeah, that's all good but I'm still more trained and I have still killed more than you."

His tone was very nonchalant. He wasn't boasting nor trying to anger her; he was just stating facts, however hard they were to hear. Blair wondered at this laid-back attitude. She was already shocked to know that Dan was a hired killer but it seemed even more unbelievable that he would speak of the subject as if it were the weather. He was not at all rambling, perspiring, hesitating, avoiding her eyes or nervously moving his hands. It was as if another Dan Humphrey had just revealed himself to her.

They stopped next to the door.

"Whoever sent you on this clearly overestimated your skills." Dan started, looking her straight in the eyes. He then added quickly, seeing her frustrated expression. "These are not people you can surprise easily. You saw that man. He had a gun. They are all prepared for eventual intruders, Blair. And they aren't classy Upper East Side men. They are dirty. They will fight dirty."

"Yes, I think I managed to conclude that just from the setting of this awful operation." Blair retorted. "But I was told that he would be on the second floor, alone with our man so really, I don't have to face anyone but him."

Dan continued to stare at her, making her uncomfortable.

"What?"

"Well, it is just so _you _to be confident. Even when you're about to face the kind of scum you never fathomed meeting in your life." Dan replied with a smile. "Are you afraid?"

The genuineness of his tone almost made her admit to the feeling of dread that caused her stomach to feel heavy and her heart to jump violently against her ribcage. Then, she thought against it. It was not about impressing him, not at all! She just felt he shouldn't know. Boys always found a way to use your feelings against you.

"Most certainly not." Blair replied, making to pass him by and open the door. He moved sideways, making her body collide against his.

Blair took a step back, glaring at him with all the frustration that had gathered in her.

"Not yet." Dan said. "You cannot just barge in there without being prepared. You need your gun in hand, and the plan of the building fresh in your head."

He took out his own gun and expertly charged the ammo he found in his bag. She watched him closely, secretly impressed with the movement of his deft fingers as he inserted the bullets in. He had large hands, manly ones.

She took out the map, forcing herself to look away before he caught her gaze because apparently, he had become good at it. The left entrance was originally a safety exit but it had been locked down after the building was deemed dangerous for the public. Right now, however, the chain that had been shutting the door was hanging loose while the padlock sat on the ground. The man who had come after them had probably been responsible for opening it.

Blair also noticed that they would have a long walk until the reached the stairs. The corridor they would be traversing ran adjacent to the large storage room where all the providers and dealers were located. There was bound to be someone watching that corridor.

"Okay, here is the plan." Dan said after slipping his gun in his right pocket."I'm going to walk in front, no discussion, alright? You follow me closely, and you watch behind you. The corridor will have doors leading to the large space and there are some glass windows along the way so we would have to crouch. If we spot someone, we dispose of him as quietly as possible. No gunfire if you don't have a silencer. Also, no knifing. It'll cause too much of a mess."

"I have a silencer." She stated, somewhat surprised at his imperative tone. He seemed so in control, like the guys from the movies Nate used to make her watch. It was rather fascinating, before she realized that he was Dan and that she shouldn't find any reason to be fascinated by him.

"Good. Keep it in your hand. Give me the other one."

She handed him the man's gun, which was a larger thing and by no means a silent one.

"We can't use this one." Dan said, discarding it inside his backpack. "Alright. Let's go."

They expected to see someone inside but it was deserted. They were in the middle of a large and long corridor, as the map had shown them. The walls were of a sickly green shade that could never be fashionable and there were many graffitis, most of them obscene. Trash lay here and there like the place had become its habitat. She discerned some syringes among the array of old chips bags, beer cans and newspapers. She shuddered, thankful that Dan couldn't see her since he was too occupied with watching his surroundings.

Behind them, there was a staircase, but as they both knew, it lead to the back of the building, which was not where they needed to go.

She walked behind him, being careful not to make noises and to avoid stepping on any of the trash. The last thing she wanted was to be stung by the needle of some junkie's discarded material. As they walked forward, the could hear voices becoming more discernible.

They reached the first door.

"The meeting is in there." Dan whispered, stopping in his tracks.

The door had a rather large window and they could not risk a look through it for fear of being seen. The voices were much louder than before although the words were not distinguishable. They guessed there were at least thirty people in there.

Dan bent down to avoid the window and beckoned her to do the same. Her heart was as panicked as she was and her palms began to sweat, something she always loathed.

She swiftly wiped her palms on her jeans. She would never wear those pants again anyway.

Slowly, Blair followed him. He was waiting for her at the other side of the door, casting wary glances around to make sure there was nobody else with them.

"We don't have time for this snail-like walking Dan!If Emery leaves the room, we can kiss killing him goodbye." Blair urged him.

"You're right." He agreed, surprising her a little. She was used to arguments with him.

So instead, they broke into a light run, avoiding the windows. They soon made it to the stairs and climbed them without looking back.

He was so lithe in his movement that he reminded her of a cat. Her eyes lingered on the way his legs propelled him upward almost gracefully. She could see the faint ripples of his back muscles through his shirt as his arms gripped the ramp. It was hard to believe he used to drop his books every five meters travelled down the corridors of Constance.

When the reached the second floor, they soon saw that their undisturbed journey would be over. There were two men guarding a door at the end of the large corridor. They looked exactly like the man they had encountered in the small woods: big-armed, large chests and tattooed skin. As far as she could tell, they were yet unaware of their presence. Dan pulled her towards the right where the wall would hide them from their sight.

"I was never told there would be men outside!" Blair said nervously. "Our correspondent only said he would get him alone. I'll be sure to report that."

"Even if you were not told, you should have expected it. These men rarely travel alone." Dan replied, sounding exasperated like he thought she was that shielded Upper East Side princess who knew nothing of the ways of the cold and dark world outside.

Alright, she had never met a drug dealer, unless Carter Baizen's lazy reselling of entertainment drugs counted as real street criminals. He was not one of those who walked around carrying knives and spitting tobacco. He probably had no idea about places and deals like these.

"Who do you work for, Dan?" Blair asked, needing to know and yet entirely aware that it was not the right time to ask.

Dan looked at her straight in the eye.

"I don't know who my superior is." He stated, not breaking eye-contact. "Even if I did, I am sure I would not tell you just like you would not tell me."

"What if it's the same person though?" Blair offered, guessing wildly and knowing that Bart would never hire the likes of Dan. But may be Bart was even smarter and more conniving than he looked. After all, Dan could never be suspected of murder. That is, if you don't count that time with Foreman but even then, it had taken special circumstances for Blair to point her finger at him. He had been less experienced in concealing lies. Clearly, Dan had become much more accomplished in that domain.

"I doubt it. Why do you have to kill Emery?"

"Because he is in a drug war with our client." Blair replied, thinking that there would be no harm in divulging that information. "That is probably why you're doing it too, right?"

"No." He said categorically. "I have to kill him because his drug deals have killed countless innocents both in here and in the foreign countries where he orchestrates the market. Consequently, we cannot come from the same agency."

"Of course you would be working for the _noble _ones." Blair whispered, rolling her eyes while she observed him as he took out a small retractable knife from his pocket.

"Why would I be choosing to kill for motives that are everything but noble?" He taunted her as he took the blade out in one movement. "Not judging here, but…well, actually yes, I am judging. But we don't have time."

He took her hand in one of his and she immediately tensed up at the feel of his warm skin against her clammy one. She hated that her hands would betray her emotions, hated the unattractiveness of sweaty palms, hated that he would get to feel _that _the first time he touched her hand. Blair must have looked down upon their joined hands (yes, she could not bring herself to snatch hers away and no, there was no way in which she could explain why) with an expression akin to utter bewilderment because Dan immediately shoved his knife into her hand.

His fingers then closed over hers as he gently forced them around the hilt of the knife.

"Give me your gun." He asked releasing her hand altogether.

"Why?" She blurted. "You have yours!"

"Mine does not have a silencer." Dan replied simply.

"Ha! Looks like I'm not the only one who was not prepared." She retaliated with confidence, happy to have finally found a flaw in his system of operation.

Dan didn't look pleased much.

"I gave mine to my partner because she needed it on her latest mission alright? Now, give me the gun. I'm better at aiming than you are. If one of us must shoot, it should be me. You're good with the physical one on one stuff so you get the knife."

He smiled, making her recall their fight at the Spring Dance. He was still back to being cocky but if her experience with Vielsen taught her anything, it was that she was still shaky with guns. She remembered how she had aimed for the head but her trembling hands had shot his throat instead.

"We're not aiming to kill alright? These guys won't be going to the police to tell on us. They just can't. Only thing you can do is use your cover. So pull that hood down and make sure they don't see only justice they can get is by coming after you themselves."

"What are you going to do then? You don't have anything for a cover." Blair remarked, seeing that his black woollen shirt had no hood.

Dan merely shrugged.

"I have a forgettable face." He replied pointedly and she got the feeling that she was supposed to know what he was referring to. When he saw that she did not seem to understand, he added,"You don't remember?"

"Umm, no." Blair said. He seemed to think there was a private joke in between them.

"Never mind." Dan quickly waved away, looking away from her with a slightly hesitant smile. He then spoke to himself like he forgot she stood there and that they were a few meters away from two potential murderers. "Of course you wouldn't remember. Why are you even bringing it up you idiot."

He quickly came back to the present situation.

"Alright, take my hand." Dan ordered, holding his right hand out, palm open as if confident hers would simply find its way to his.

By now, she knew better than to argue. He seemed to know what he was doing most of the time and she did not find the idea of touching him so repulsing anymore.

Her left hand soon placed itself onto his and he held it securely, his fingers not daring to interlace with hers. She was not going to move any of hers either, not wanting to satisfy that little part of her that had jumped in strange pleasure from the moment his skin warmed her own.

"We're two lovers, just exploring, alright. Play the the knife under your sleeve." Dan muttered before he tugged at her hand, trailing her behind him and away from the safety of the wall.

She should have been a good actress. After all, Blair had always been told she could do drama very well. _The Age of Innocence _had been a wreck but Dorota had still told her that she had been the best actress of the bunch even if Nate had been the one appraised. She had always liked to act, to be bitchy even when unnecessary because it reminded her that she could simply put on that persona whenever she felt like it.

But the current situation did not favour any of her acting skills. The fear paralyzed her senses like a snake's poison, travelling slowly around her body until gradually, she felt nothing but Dan's hand around her own. She wanted to reply to Dan's fake conversation (he was pretending to tell her about the place, like a boyfriend who would take his girl to some kind of secret, dubious place in which they can fool around without fear of being caught) but her words got stuck in her throat and all she could think of was the men who had now noticed their presence. She willed herself to smile at least, so that she could look like a lovesick girlfriend but she knew her lips were set tautly on her face, as if stretched by an invisible elastic string.

Blair noticed how Dan's hand squeezed her own like he was silently trying to reassure her they would not be coming out of this situation as dead meat. She had no time to dwell on how comforting it really felt or how she wondered what the tips of his fingers could do to her skin.

"Well, normally, there isn't anybody here." Dan stated, his tone light like he was trying to include those two bulls of men in the conversation.

Now that they were closer, Blair wished they could have looked like Vielsen. She would take a perverted gentleman dressed in expensive clothes and hiding behind a facade of propriety anytime over these dirty-looking men. At least, she would not feel so bad about having to touch them in a physical fight.

"You guys can't be here." One of the two said roughly. He was wearing an earring that looked like a metallic raptor claw. He seemed to want no discussion.

"We've been coming here for weeks." Dan replied naturally. "Look, we won't ask you what you're doing here if you don't ask us."

Her hand was still in his but he was holding it tighter than ever. This time, she returned the pressure, afraid of the inevitable moment where they would have to let go and actually attack those two.

"I know your teenage hormones are speaking right now, but it's best for you and your hoe to find some place else to fuck around alright? Won't be saying it twice. Move along!"

She should have been shocked at hearing Dan's reply but everything seemed to make sense in this context.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" Dan almost growled, making the two men raise their eyebrows like they were surprised a kid like him could utter such a line. "My girlfriend is not a hoe for one. And secondly, this place is not yours."

"Ha, I see. You want to show yourself next to her." He laughed derisively and his partner joined him. They sounded like two dogs barking after a particularly cowardly cat. "He won't have much to show if he don't listen and _leave._" The second one said, regaining his seriousness.

Blair briefly wondered how this could work. Dan had obviously been counting on the surprise factor but both of these bulldogs were staring straight at them. They could not hope to catch them offguard easily.

"Let's go" She heard herself say with a trembling tone. She was afraid of them and even if she wished she could have hidden it, it was better for her that these two men believed it. "We don't want to cause trouble."

"Listen to your girl."

She turned around, pulling Dan with her. She felt him squeeze her hand and she instantly knew that was the signal.

They both turned around at the same time, surprising the two guards who had been watching them leave. Everything was being processed at the speed of light in her brain. She didn't have time to consider who she should attack, who would be easier to throw down and who would give a lesser fight. Blair just went for the one who stood closer.

She threw herself at him, feeling the roughness of his leather vest against her face as she tried to knock him backwards. It succeeded but he had grabbed her arms and swept her aside like dust. She had no idea how Dan was faring and she could not spare a look towards him or the other man. Her own charge was getting back up, swearing loudly.

She unfolded the knife.

Getting back up would be useless. She was much shorter than the man and he would always fight her off like she was a mere fly. Staying on the ground was a better option but she could not ignore that her victim was reaching for his gun. She heard a loud _bang _a few feet behind her that made her ears throb in temporary pain. Her heart jumped. What if it was Dan who got hurt? Dan had the the silencer. This could not have been his gun.

But even then, her eyes did not leave the man. She extended her leg and kicked him right in the middle of his calf, making him flinch forward. He still didn't fall.

The corridor was a cacophony of sounds by then. The men were very vocal and loud in their swears. She herself was screaming with ever kick she tried to land on the bulky man. She thought she could distinguish Dan's voice among them but he was not speaking words. It felt like he was grunting but whether in pain or from anything else, she didn't know.

At last, as if she had completely forgotten the use of her knife, Blair finally remembered something. She had seen it done in the _House of Wax _remake with that dreadful Paris Hilton. She had only watched it to compare it with the original but God she felt grateful to remember that atrocity right now. She was on her knees and she thanked the Lord she was not wearing any of her usual expensive clothes. These jeans would probably only look better with the floor's dirt on them.

He was preparing to shoot and she saw it in his eyes. She must have made a pitiful sight, her hood down and crawling like a gutter cat. Dying like that was just unimaginable to her.

In one movement, she propelled herself to his left side away from his aim. She grabbed his ankle and before he could kick her away, slit the back of it with Dan's knife. He immediately fell with a loud scream. His blood was on her hand and it quickly gathered a puddle around his foot. That was exactly how it happened in that tasteless movie. At least, it taught her something useful. The rupture of the Achilles' tendon was agonizing and it would prevent the man from walking properly for a long while.

Seeing him on the floor, clutching his foot like his hand could heal it magically, made her feel terrible.

Then she saw that the gun was still in his hand and every ounce of pity vanished from her. She kicked it away.

She finally looked towards Dan, expecting the worse from the lack of sounds.

Instead, his victim was on the ground and unconscious. His hair was positively unruly and he had a red bruise on his left cheek. His black shirt was torn on his left shoulder, letting a patch of bloodied skin be visible.

"Are you hurt?" He immediately asked her despite the fact that he looked the most damaged of the two.

Her elbows had lived better days and one of her knees throbbed uncomfortably but she was not going to complain about those. She would keep it for Dorota later on.

"I'm not. But you are!" She walked to his side, stepping over the unconscious body and ignoring the loud moans of his partner. The skin of his shoulder had been grazed off, leaving a light, almost imperceptible dent on his shoulder, like someone had taken a bite off it. It bled generously despite it smallness. She didn't think she had ever seen that much blood in her life.

She was shaking and she knew it but Dan wasn't. He almost got shot dead and yet, he seemed as calm as if he had been reading a book. Blair did not know how to interpret that demeanour of his. It unnerved her to no end but also worried her.

"I'll live. I'm sure you have seen worse than that. Your guy over there is an example." He answered, his chin pointing at the man who was whining in pain on the floor. "I was right to give you the knife. Never would have thought of the Achilles myself."

Of course, she was not idiotic enough to tell him she had seen the move in a lame teenage horror flick. Somehow, Dan thinking she had come up with it by herself made her feel a little proud.

"Don't try to play the swashbuckler hero here Humphrey." Blair reprimanded, growing a little tired of his misplaced confidence. "You're definitely hurt."

"And there is _definitely _no doctor around here and no expert who can make stitches. Sincerely,I'm fine. Now let's kill this Emery dude alright? Get behind me, they must have heard the noise."

Dan held his gun with a steady hand and opened the door with the other. The room that was revealed to them was an old office, rather large and stuffy. The windows were broken and shreds of glass remained stuck around their frames. There was a desk, worn out and missing a leg. Chairs with their metal legs gone rusty beyond odds lay around like bodies in a were two men there too, crouching behind the large desk. One of them held a gun but it was not Emery.

"Oh God! You are finally here." The man exclaimed. "What took you so long?"

They saw Emery rise, looking puzzled. He wore an impeccable suit, a rather odd outfit for such a place but she imagined he had to return to the city for his other business after he was done with that one.

"What do you mean finally here?" He asked the other guy, who now turned his gun towards him. "What the hell are you saying?"

It took a few seconds but he finally came to the realization.

"You little bastard. I should have known your dirty dumb ass could not come up with any good transaction."

The man did not heed Emery's words.

"You guys got to wait for me to leave and join the dealers underneath. I wouldn't want to look like I've done it." He told them, still watching Emery closely. "They told me they'd send only one person but hey, it's cool by me if you got a partner. Was worried those dogs outside would prove themselves difficult anyway so if you ask me, it's good your friend came."

They didn't know what to say so they kept quiet.

He gave them a strange look before leaving the room, his gun still pointed at Emery.

The latter didn't give them a fight. Well, he tried throwing one of the chairs but his aim was appallingly bad. In the end, it was Dan who shot him after five minutes of dodging and swearing.

Blair knew she should have done it. It was her gun and her mission after all. Yet, she was more than glad that Dan took care of it. She was still adjusting to the life she had chosen and a few months in Paris had done nothing to help.

**They had to leave the building quickly. **The moans from the guard had finally stopped but they were afraid that combined with the gunshot from earlier, they would raise suspicion among the drug dealers underneath.

They soon found themselves back in the woods where Dan grabbed his backpack.

"That was messed up." She said with a laugh that seemed neither humourless nor happy.

"We're messed up." Dan replied with a tight smile. "I hope you know that. We're not normal anymore."

"I used to think you were, but you did fool me hard. You have a lot of explaining to do."

She saw him grab his shirt and remove it. She was not prepared for the sight of his chest and part of her made to look sideways. He was not looking at her at all so she allowed herself a look from the corner of her eyes because she was curious to see how thin Dan Humphrey had gotten.

However, itt was not thinness that she saw. It was lines that ran around well-defined pectorals and abs and created the ripples of his arm muscles as he rummaged through his bag. His hipbones protruded in that delightful way that could only be observed on high street male models. He had a faint trail of hair in between them that led towards where her gaze would be denied entry. As much as she tried to look away, it was simply too fascinating. Who knew Dan Humphrey could look like that? It seemed ridiculous, like a bad joke. First, the fake kissing, then the holding hands and now _that_.

She tried to convince herself he had done it on purpose, that he had wanted to use this new situation to flirt with her but that would have been lying to herself. Dan had not appeared interested in anything but the mission since the beginning. Even topless, he had not looked at her once, not from shyness (and she had to admit reluctantly that he had nothing to be shy from) but because he was simply busy with his thoughts.

"Aren't you cold?" Blair asked a little bitingly because she really wished he could put a shirt on.

"A little."

He was not shivering though and he did not look too nervous in his quest for a shirt.

"A little? We're in October. You're injured. You don't need to catch a cold on top of that."

"Woah. Blair don't try too hard to sound concerned. You almost fooled me."Dan said.

His sarcasm did not amuse her.

"You think I don't care, is that it?"

"Well…yes. I already told you why."

He finally found himself a new shirt, which was also black but thicker and more appropriate for the weather. He buried the torn one in his bag, along with his gun. He handed hers back, looking at her defiantly.

Then it hit her. He was still angry about his father; about her choosing to go away without informing him of anything. That's when she also remembered what Bart Bass had promised her. She opened her mouth to tell him the news but he cut her off irreverently.

"No time for that. They're going to roam the woods as soon as they find out the body."

Blair followed him. That was all she had been doing: following Dan.

_I suppose I can tell him later. When we make it out of here alive. _

It would not do to announce it here anyway. The place was depressing in itself. It would make the news seem less joyful.

And anyways, he won't get to hear it until he explains himself. He was not the only one who was allowed to be angry.

When they made it out of the woods, Dan suddenly stopped.

"We can't keep going together." He said.

"What?" Blair blurted. "Why not! We did some good work back in that desolation of a place. I'm sure we can handle going back home together."

"Really? I was always under the impression that your constant remarks and unending complaints would actually be the death of me. I could have handled five more of those men if it meant I would be rid of that."

He was smirking and it did not entirely enrage her but it still got her riled up.

"Your bravado will kill you one day. That's what would be the death of you Humphrey. You think you can just jump into any situation and expect your newly-acquired skills to take care of it?"

"Still worrying?" He replied with a mocking pout.

"I thought we agreed that I didn't care?" Blair shot right back, feeling empowered by his amused smile.

"Indeed." He exclaimed with a laugh. "Well, my road with you ends here for today. My partner is waiting for me in that car over there." He pointed at a black Toyota at the end of the deserted street. "And I cannot have her know who you are. It would be detrimental to you. I'm sure you planned your own way out of this hell hole so I think you should be fine right?"

He raised his eyebrows in concern.

"Of of course!"Blair replied. "I've done this before." She repeated uselessly.

"Good. We'll keep in touch. I can't wait to tell you everything."

Sarcasm again!

With that, he left her to join the car. She wondered who would welcome him in there, who was that partner of his. It seemed strange. Everything was strange,like she had been living in an alternate universe. Being in Cercle 19 had changed her life but it had not unsettled her as much as what had happened today. She and Dan Humphrey had fought together, had killed someone. She knew that their bond would be tighter after she had told him of her secret even if she had tried to escape and ignore it in Paris. Yet, now, the knowledge that he was just like her made it inevitable for them to be thrown together.

He could not be something she didn't want him to be, or could he?

Dan could not be her friend! It just defied the laws of logic.

And yet, how could he be anything less after what had transpired today?

**I leave you here. I am so incredibly sorry for the late update. I feel horrible. Please do not lose faith in this fic. I love you all!**

**This was a hard chapter to write. I did not want to have too much action and lose the characters in it. I hope I have done well at keeping them in character. **

**Reviews, suggestions and comments are ALWAYS welcomed. I love every single one of them so do not feel shy (or lazy :-P) and let me know how I'm faring.**

**Next chapter is a Dan POV and we'll get a nice long conversation with Blair (which will include nice awkward bits about that pseudo kiss of theirs!). Until then!**


	19. Chapter 19: Friends

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews (I'm happy you loved the chapter Magnus57!)! And addressing yours Kevin, I am planning for a kiss very soon. I'm sorry it has taken some time for it to take place but rest assured, it's coming and thank you too for the great review dear :-)**

**For now, here is a chapter to you. I'm going for two Dan's POV consecutively and then, some genuinely good action, I promise!**

"Here is the hero." Leila greeted him as he entered the car. She gave him one look, assessing the extent of damage. "They haven't been kind to your cheek."

She pinched him there and he winced from the sharp stab of pain.

"Hey!" He exclaimed before breaking into a laugh. Leila was one of those people who were not particularly affected by pain. It has been almost three months since he has started working with her and he had noticed that she never complained about her injuries. Whenever she saw bruises, she would press her fingers on them as if she found the sensation a rather interesting one. Twice during their missions, she insisted on continuing a fight, even with a twisted ankle and two broken ribs and insisting to no end that he let her finish the job even when he had a ready gun in his hand.

He supposed Fawkes knew well what she had been doing. Her presence had influenced him greatly and although he did not abide completely by her no-pain doctrine, he had learned to bear his injuries better and to ignore pain when his concentration was most crucially needed.

"Who was that person you were talking to?" She asked as she drove away from the warehouse. He wondered if they had yet found Emery's body.

"Some girl. She asked me if I was selling."

"At least, you got your clothes right." Leila replied.

"Yeah. I told her to walk off."

"So you killed him?"

He nodded. It was a long time ago since he had stopped feeling guilty about his murders. Hanging out with someone like Leila had made him even more impassive. It felt good to have someone in the know, someone with whom he could share his thoughts and plans.

_Blair knows too._

That was not going to be easy.

"Good." She said with a smile. "When Fawkes first told me I'd be paired with you, I was afraid you'd be a softie. I mean, Literature undergraduate? Doesn't scream 'I can take danger' to me. I usually think the science types are more qualified. Less feelings in science, you know. It's just numbers you punch in. You don't read lengthy paragraphs about the death of a fictional character that get you all teared up like in Harry Potter or something. It doesn't encourage one to kill, you see."

"Well, if you read the right books. Lots of stuff about murderers and perfect crimes out there." Dan answered. "And anyway, you read the Harry Potter books?"

"Yeah, I did. Why do you sound surprised? We aren't all illiterate." Leila explained while she rolled her eyes. "About these murderer books —"

"Whose death got you teared up?" He interrupted, suddenly curious to know.

It took a few seconds before she answered. He could see she was debating whether or not to tell.

"Sirius Black's death." She finally said. "Don't you dare laugh alright? This doesn't make me a softie. Even you have to admit that his death was tragic. I mean, Harry didn't deserve to lose his godfather on top of everything! And Sirius loved him so much."

"Hey no worries. I happen to have teared up too in that particular passage of the fifth book. So I won't be laughing." Dan laughed a little nonetheless because he had never thought he would be discussing Harry Potter with Leila one day. But after a while, he returned to seriousness."What if we killed someone's godfather one day?"

Her eyes left the road to look at him. She was strong, Leila, and he could fully see it then. There was no remorse in her eyes but there was kindness. She was not a bad person and nor was he.

"We have killed only those who had it coming. Whether they were fathers or godfathers does not matter."

He supposed she was right, or rather, he knew he could not believe otherwise. He was in too deep to start questioning the morality of his doings again.

**Dan knew he was supposed to call her right away but he was still nursing his wound in the bathroom of the loft, hiding from Jenny's inquisitory gaze.** He wondered how his sister could go weeks without asking where their father was. He had received more inquiries from Eric and Lily than from Rufus' own daughter.

He had many questions for Fawkes but he was not sure how to approach the topic. He did not know Fawkes well, not at all. Could he tell her about Blair? What would the woman say? Surely she was reasonable. She wouldn't trust him into a Mr and Mrs. Smith scenario, would she? Not that he and Blair were anything like Brad and Angelina's characters in that movie, although that quasi-kiss got him thinking.

He stopped himself before his mind decided to go to that yet unexplored territory that was reserved for Blair Waldorf. He had spent the whole summer barricading himself from it and justifying his actions. One encounter with the girl was not going to change all of that.

Fawkes expected a report the next day although he did call her to ascertain that the mission had gone successfully.

He heard Jenny moving in her room, probably trying clothes. He wanted to call Blair but he really could not risk being overheard by her. Half an hour later, she popped into his room, wearing her Constance uniform that she had drastically remodelled to look like something Blair would wear. He suddenly remembered she had been crowned Queen by Waldorf herself and Constance was now at his sister's mercy. Dan pitied the poor souls who were still stuck in that school.

"What do you think?" Jenny asked visibly proud of herself.

The white shirt was adorned with a black bow around the neck and she had thrown a red cardigan on top. Her heels were ridiculously high and he just couldn't help but raise an arm in fear of her losing balance. But Jenny did not lose her balance. She walked expertly towards him, like she had been doing it all her life. There was a headband among her blond hair. She had never liked headbands but apparently, becoming Blair Waldorf 2.0 had made it a requirement.

"You look like Blair, so I'm thinking that's the point right?"

"No!" She cried out with exasperation. "I don't expect a guy to understand, much less you of all people. A toad could dress better than you do. I'm not trying to imitate her. This is a new reign at Constance. I'm the new Queen and I'm different."

"Reign? Queen?" He almost laughed. "So, um, what do you call the other students? Your subjects? Do you have a throne in the girls' bathrooms? And Thanes following you around like in Macbeth?"

"Thanes?" She frowned. "No. All I'm saying is that I'm trying to change things."

"How does this work anyway" He interrupted. "Like, do the other students just know you're the Queen? Did Blair send them a message or something, or an official communiqué where she publicly relinquishes her status"

"Why do you care?" Jenny answered."Anyways, like I said, I don't want to be like Blair. Everything is different about my outfits. She always wore court shoes and I don't. I like platforms."

"I'm sorry but it's hard to take you seriously with that headband."

"The headband is my crown."

He threw a pillow mockingly towards her. _Crown? _Really?

She sat down next to him, becoming his shorter little sister again.

"We're really not like before, are we?" He said, punching her lightly on her shoulder.

"No, we're not." Jenny sounded sad. "I know it's me. I'm not like you, I actually wish I lived on the Upper East Side. I want to wake up and feel like Blair or Serena one day, have brunch and a full wardrobe instead of constantly stitching up new outfits from my old pieces. I thought…If dad was still around, he and Lily…I don't know, I think it's just some weird wish of mine that he marries her and we all become related."

"Is that why you're mad he's not here?"

"I guess. He just left. I'm not that mad. I took advantage of the situation. Still am. But I do miss him Dan." She looked him in the eye and he could see a softness that had become so rare in her. Behind the black eyeshadow and endless mascara-enhanced eyelashes was his sister and he was reminded of his job, of how close he had been to losing his father. He would go mad if anything happened to Jenny. "Is our aunt ever going to get well?"

Dan put his arm around her shoulder, hugging her gently for fear of unsettling her since she had become hardened to familial displays of emotion. "I don't know. You should talk to him someday, he would really like that. I think the illness is making him a bit depressed. He misses the gallery too."

"I miss our breakfasts. I said that I'd love to have brunch, but that's a lie. Nothing beats dad's pancakes."

He agreed with her and for a few minutes, he found Jenny again and all the murders, drug-dealers and Fawkes of the world could not deter him.

**He called her around one in the morning. Jenny was asleep in her room and he took refuge in their small bathroom, which were as far away from her as could be wished. **

"It was about time." Blair said. She did not sound sleepy and the sharpness of her tone was a proof of it. Unconsciously, he found himself straightening his shoulders, as if taking the defensive position.

"Jenny was home."

"I see."It sounded more like she was not content with that explanation. He decided he shouldn't care.

"Did you come home safely? How is your decoy?" Dan asked.

"She's probably rejoicing the acquisition of a new Burberry coat right now. Apparently, people fell for it. Gossip Girl is all about me shopping at Benetton, you should check it out, especially since that was obviously how you manage to find me, right?"

He caught the sarcasm right away.

"I told you I would explain it all in due time. I can't right now because I am in the bathrooms and going on about all the circumstances of my being a hired killer would take long and—"

"Yes, yes. I get it. I wouldn't want you to be stuck in your modest bathroom for too long anyway Humphrey. Even I can have pity on certain souls."

He laughed, taking care not to wake up Jenny. Nothing would seem more weird than having his sister hearing him laugh alone in the bathroom.

"I'll have you know that last time Nate's been here, he had high praises for our bathroom."

"Well, he had been squatting a deserted building. Anything with a shower curtain would have seemed like luxury at the time."

"Always the answer to everything, Blair." Dan replied as he leaned against the wall. Their bathroom wasn't luxurious, nor spacious but it was its own sort of cozy with colourful items that seemed like they could never match together if put anywhere else. His father's toothbrush was still there, untouched for months. Dan had never wanted to throw it away. "You know, I called to make sure you were safe. I actually don't care about your decoy beyond the fact that your plan at concealing your location worked. I'm sure she was in good hands with Dorota."

There was a millisecond pause that he noticed, as if she had stopped breathing for that lapse of time.

"Well," Her composed voice seemed a little too rehearsed, like the one she had been using against her minions. "I'm doing fine. I caught a cab, as unlikely as it seems, and had him drop me a few blocks from home." She paused. "I should thank you, for your help and all even if I am having a hard time digesting the fact that you've been lying to me, that you would probably have continued lying to me if we hadn't happened upon the same mission."

Dan was confused. Why did it seem to matter so much that he had been lying to her? They had spent their summer apart, she in the arms of Chuck, far away from him and any thoughts of his father. He did not owe her anything. Discovering her secret did not mean he should have had to divulge his own.

"We both know the nature of our work forbids us from speaking openly about it to anyone who is not related to our respective agencies."

"I spoke to you about it!" Blair defended.

"Only because I literally caught you, knife in hand, lurking around where my father was." He reminded her.

"Yes, which makes even more sense that you should have seen me at all! You were already watching me, were you not?"

They were verging on their natural bickering and he was holding the phone close to his mouth so that she could hear his frustrated half-whispers.

"Listen," He said amicably. "I actually knew you were a killer before you told me of it. But—" He raised his tone to cover her protestation. "_But_ it's a little too late to settle everything tonight. I will be happy—by that, I actually mean that I won't—to reply to any of your inquiries when we settle a day, place and time for it."

"Easy! Your place, Monday after school"

"Woah, are you sure you dislike Brooklyn that much?" He teased her, feeling a little joyous that she had suggested his place without hesitation. "But it won't do. Jenny will most probably come. I think we won't be really at peace."

"Yes, forget that. How do you manage with her, I don't know!"

"Hey you single-child maniac, you would really benefit from having a sibling, you know that? It would teach you a few things, like compassion and unselfishness."

"Nonsense!" was her vehement reply, like he had suggested she should adopt a monkey or go on a road trip through Ohio. "If anything, those two qualities should become inexistent were I to ever have a sibling. Haven't you see how it destroys families? I mean, yes, you must have, you're a living proof of it."

"You destroyed my family Blair." He replied a little hotly before he felt a little embarrassed by the roughness of his tone, while she had clearly been teasing him. "Serena and Eric are doing fine, no?"

"They haven't alway been like that. I should know."

They were silent for a few seconds which indicated to him that his remark must have hit home. He was so conflicted about Blair. At times, he knew she must feel terribly guilty about the whole situation with his father. He knew that feeling, the one that makes you helpless in front of a situation that pains you, all because some superior specifically told you to always follow orders. At other times though, he remembered her summer in Paris and all compassion for her suddenly vanished.

"I think my dorm room should do for the meeting. I do not have a roommate yet for some unknown reason. And I'm not complaining. I say Monday at nine in the afternoon?"

"Yes, that would work. See you then, I guess."

He was about to hang out but her heard her voice, as if screaming.

"What's wrong?" He immediately asked.

"I forgot to ask how _you _were doing!"

"You didn't have to scream it! You really scared me. I thought some guy broke into your room, or something."

"Well, you were going to hang up! How else could I get your attention?"

"I'm doing fine Blair." He replied nonchalantly but inside, he was moved from her concern and the way she seemed to think it so urgent to ask after his welfare.

"I don't want Jason Bourne fine, Dan." Blair said. "I want a 'yes, I have evaluated the degree of my injuries and it has revealed that I am doing well' fine."

How did the girl come up with phrases like that? It almost reminded him of himself, except he would most probably be incapable of saying them out loud without stuttering.

"I have evaluated, and re-evaluated, the degree of my injuries and it has revealed that I am doing well." Dan repeated after her, mimicking a child at school, repeating his teacher's sermon. "Now, go to bed Blair."

"I won't be asked twice, since _my _concern is obviously of _no _concern to you. Good night."

She was wrong but she did not give him the time to deny it.

**She opened the door for him, still dressed as though she had a date or a job interview**. Silently, she moved aside, allowing him to enter. He caught a whiff of her perfume, the same one she ever wore and whereas in the past, he had found the scent obnoxiously strong, it now seemed gentler and rather sensual. The door was locked behind him and he sat down on the empty bed of the non-existent roommate. He didn't think Blair would like him on her own, well-made abode.

Blair walked to open the window, heels clicking on the floor. Her skirt was the most form-fitting he had seen her in in a while and the rose-patterned fishnet tights covered her slim legs like a glove. She did not have Serena's endless, Californian-kissed legs but they were something to behold nonetheless and he felt ridiculous for not noticing them before. He vaguely wondered why she was so overdressed, especially since she had taken good care to fit in among the people of NYU. He wondered if may be, may be, it could have been for him.

Or Chuck. Yes, it must have been for Chuck.

Her room felt like another universe. His was a mishmash of old movie posters, books and a few family pictures. Her books were stacked neatly in that bookshelf of hers that must have cost his whole tuition fee for the semester. There was a novel on her side table, placed elegantly under the lamp as if she had been reading it every evening before going to sleep and laying it on the side like every girl who respected conventions should do. There was a sense of peace and childlike innocence in this room that Dan could hardly believe he was acknowledging considering this girl used to be a manipulative despot in their high school days.

"So?" She asked, putting her elaborately-sculpted desk chair in front of him and sitting down on it.

"Where do you want me to start from?"

"From the beginning and I don't mean Foreman. I mean the real beginning."

Eyebrows raised in interest, legs crossed and hands on her left elbow, she watched him. Blair was not angry but the lack of definite expression was not helping him.

"I started a long time ago. I was really young, now that I think of it and may be that's why I accepted. Because I didn't think it would be that bad, I only thought it would help me. Financially, yes, but also in terms of character. You were one hell of a bitch back then Blair and you didn't even know me, nor Jenny." He stopped, not sure where to proceed from there.

"How young are we exactly talking here?" She asked softly.

"Grade ten young. I was in training right then. I was approached by someone, I can't reveal names for obvious reasons. He introduced me to the head of our agency. It doesn't have a name like yours but it does the job nonetheless. My superior assured me I was only to target people who deserved it, that we weren't the types to follow selfish clients. I refused at first but...well, I don't really like to say it but since we're at it: I didn't like the way I was at school. I liked Serena back then, and it seemed I would never get her."

"What has that got to do with it?" Blair blurted out.

She looked almost offended and he didn't understand why.

"Because I wanted to be confident! I wanted to impress her, to feel like I had money because I thought that's all you guys cared about. You don't know how relieved I was to see that Serena was different."

"You might think so, Humphrey but she isn't all that different from us." Blair rebuked. "She still likes fashion shows, expensive clothes and men who have some notoriety."

He should have been hurt by Blair's obvious attempt to burst his bubble but the girl did not know one thing.

"I am not in love with her anymore." He stated both to her and to himself. Until that moment, he had never really admitted it and it was odd that Blair, of all people, should compel him to do so. "But I was back then. I thought, why not? So I accepted. I didn't kill for quite a while. I wasn't ready so all I did was some espionage here and there and document-stealing."

He readjusted himself on the stiff bed before continuing.

"I got a thirst for it. The more I discovered what people were capable of, the more it seemed fitting that some of them should die, especially when they managed to escape the justice system."

"You sound like Guy Fawkes." She said, smiling slightly like she was not sure he would get the reference.

He wondered if she knew about Fawkes. Sure, he was the only one who actually called his superior Fawkes, but it seemed so strange that Blair should think of it too, should even mention the name. He was momentarily silent, observing her. She held his gaze but there was no malice in her eyes, just confusion.

"I think we might seem as drastic as he was, yes." He replied cautiously. "What is strange is that, after a while, I didn't even think of you guys anymore. It was about righting what was wrong and I helped. I felt myself become a little Bruce Wayne, minus the multi-billionaire aspect—he's Batman by the way—and it was gratifying."

"I know who Bruce Wayne is!"

He ignored her.

"In the end, I trained, and trained, and trained until I was upgraded and the nature of my missions became more intricate. This summer, I received the hardest training of them all since, from now on, I'll probably be going against other killers, like me. I know a few of them who have crossed my path but we never really had anything to put us against the other, but soon it'll happen. Not all killers work with the same ethics and values. There exists many classes of them, of us. You, for example, work for the rich elite. You kill whatever they ask you to. Others are bound only by one person, doing the cleaning for them. Some are downright disturbed and kill for any price, witnesses of events, victims who have survived, children. We're all different."

"You think this means we are supposed to hate each other?" Blair questioned with worry.

"I thought we were doing just fine with that aspect back in Constance."

"No." And there, her voice sounded small and childlike. "I mean, I told you before, I don't hate you. I never had any reason to. I don't even dislike you. It's just that, I know you despise what I work for."

"I do. But in the end, it comes down to the fact that we are killers nonetheless. I don't think I can truly hate you for that. You didn't kill my father. You're not heartless Blair and I personally don't care about your victims. Rich people often have it coming anyways."

She exhaled and turned her head aside, her dark brown hair following the movement and hiding her face momentarily. He was looking for something to focus on, unable to seem impolite in staring at her so he found an object of interest sitting on her roommate's ugly wooden side table. He went over to it and saw that it was a dvd case; _The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari._

"Your nonexistent roommate has good taste in movies." He commented, drawing Blair from her momentary state of thought."Do you know I have a shirt with that exact cover on it?"

He knew that it was Blair's but he struggled to understand why she found horror suddenly so appealing. She seemed hesitant to answer.

"I remember that shirt of yours. You wore it on the first day at NYU."

Dan couldn't say he was not surprised.

"I was intrigued alright!" She added as if he had accused her of anything wrong. "I wanted to know what movie that was."

"I have the dvd. You should have asked me." He answered eagerly. She had never seemed like the type who actually watched black and white movies, as Serena and Nate friend since the both of them had specific tastes that did not reconcile with Dan's most of the time.

"You were angry with me, and quite rightly. I had enough pride to avoid being stared down by you."

She laughed a little, unsure of whether he'd find it funny but lately, he had learn to join in as if Blair Waldorf laughing with him (instead of _at _him) made it impossible to do otherwise.

"But please, continue. You're not done yet."

So Dan told her of everything, and the more he spoke, the more he found himself comfortable in sharing things that he might not have ever thought of sharing with her. He spoke of his first murder, how he carried it on and what immense guilt he had to live with. She understood unlike Leila, who was more of a reserved, determined character. Leila did not believe in talking about feelings. When the deed was done, it would be relinquished to the past for her, and she moved on with life. He told her of Foreman too,of how he was so afraid that she would figure him out because the last thing he needed was for Blair to know. This extracted an expression of superior satisfaction from Blair, like he had admitted that she was a clever one and that she would have been trouble.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you any of this." He said as a conclusion, because he did feel sorry even though they should be able to understand each other's situation.

"We didn't owe each other anything. Actually, we don't owe anything to each other."

"No, we do." He cut her.

She frowned, partly from discontent at being interrupted and partly from confusion. It was so dark outside as they neared 11:30. He had come to lean back on the bed while she had pushed her chair closer.

"Come on, Blair!" Dan elaborated. "I know that a summer away from each other might have made it seem like we don't share any kind of relationship but forgive me if I thought that we were becoming friends, if not that we were already friends. There is only so many times we can be thrown together among the same people before we become identified as friends too."

She didn't agree nor deny it. It slightly enraged him, this reluctance of hers to recognize things that were beyond her, things that had already established themselves. He had been a friend to her.

"That's why I was so angry with you!" He gestured towards her angrily. "I thought I'd earned some sort of consideration from you but then you go to Paris and I don't get a word, not a goodbye, nothing."

"Listen!" Blair exclaimed. "I actually tried to make it up to you."

"How? Really, because all I hear from my father lately is that he has gotten so used to his new life, he sometimes forgets about the gallery,about us and Lily. Do you think that's good?"

"He's coming back!"

Dan stopped talking, stunned into silence.

"He's coming back. I made a deal with the man I work for, the customer. He's coming back by Christmas."

Blair stood up, as if unable to hold his gaze which must have reflected all that he was feeling. There was a sudden warmth spreading itself from his stomach to all the rest of his being. That she would do that for him, regardless of whether she thought them friends or not, seemed to settle something in him: he could like Blair, no, he _did _like Blair! Dan knew his heart very well. He had written listening to it and now it was beating like a war drum. He had not felt this since kissing Serena for the first time. The summer of resentment was gone, instead, it uncovered feelings he had not yet admitted to himself.

As she stood there, her back facing him, pretending to look through the window as if the building could give any kind of interesting view, he was trying to formulate an answer. Her foot was tapping against the wooden ground, creating a nervous noise that mimicked his heart in its pace.

"Blair." And there, his voice sounded a little gruff so he cleared his throat in hope of concealing his emotion. "What kind of deal did you make?"

She still kept her back turned.

"Nothing extravagant. I asked for him to return, to be cleared and allowed to live without any further disturbance, in exchange, I'd continue to work for him." She paused, moving her head slightly in his direction although her eyes were still avoiding him. "I'm essential, I've been told. Now, I can't have out, ever."

"Are we still not friends?" He asked.

"No, that is, if you can truly forgive me now and put it in the past, we can be friends."

She was immediately forgiven, like he had been waiting for that green signal.

"We _are _friends." He insisted.

She turned to him and smiled and her large brown eyes filled with genuine joy. She had never looked at him that way and he was afraid to lose the moment or to forget it in the future.

"So," She said, never losing the smile. "can you help me, as a friend?"

"Yes, of course." He answered, thinking it was related to their extracurricular activities.

"Would you take me to the next dorm party this Friday?"Blair asked rather shyly. "As you know, I am not too familiar with the type of people this school shelters and if I'm to make the most of my experience, I'm to learn how to socialize."

Going to a party with Blair? Here. In September, this would have irked him to no end. The thought of seeing Blair around NYU had long unsettled him but now?

Now, he was actually looking forward to it.

He accepted and before he could make any sense of his inner turmoil, that really seemed like a maelstrom of joy and incredulity, he got up, said goodbye and left.

That night, he took out his old notebook and started writing again.

**I do hope you like this chapter my dear readers. I love you all (especially you Magnus57, but I'm working on making a master list of shout-outs for the next chapter) and I always look forward to read your thoughts.**

**I'm sorry it took time. Like I said, university is taking my life (yep, I'm a new undergrad student) and I'm still trying to find a way to reconcile my schedule with my fanfic writing. **

**I promised good action. Now that Dan knows how he feels about her, it'll make for some interesting events during the next two chapters (yes, a kiss is coming people!) and I first wanted to reminisce the party that they have been to in season 3. HOWEVER, in my version of it, things get much more steamy and interesting and we see that Blair also finds it hard to deal with her yet unacknowledged feelings for Dan. **

**Anyways, do review if you can. I love you all!**


	20. Chapter 20: Dare

**Hello to you all. I'm sorry for taking time but I hope that this chapter will take a bit of the sting off. As I've said, things will get pretty steamy and the kiss we have all been waiting for will follow in the next chapter. I hope you guys like it and comment as usual. **

**I really need to do a master list of all the people who have been following this fic faithfully. I love you all!**

He had never escorted Blair Waldorf anywhere even though his introduction to the Upper East Side had thrown several charity events, ostentatious balls and galas on his way. Somewhat, even without Serena and Chuck, even without Nate, the two of them had managed to present themselves to these events and successfully ignore the other's existence. They had never danced, never shared a casual conversation holding champagne flutes, never acknowledged the other unless necessary.

Now, he was taking her to a dorm party.

_How fitting_.

Of course she would never ask him to accompany her to the pompous parties that made up her daily life. He was only good enough for the world he came from.

Dan should have been more bothered by these thoughts but he could not be. For one, he would have first row seats to seeing Blair Waldorf mingle with what she considered 'commoners'.

But most importantly, he was going to be _alone _with her.

This really sounded like a date. It was no more an accidental encounter in the woods, or an apologetic visit to the loft. She wanted him to meet her at her room before they could go. There would be no Chuck, no Serena, nobody. He knew Vanessa had a midterm paper due on the morrow so she would probably not point herself. Strangers would surround them.

Then of course, Dan knew that it was _no _date. Blair was with Chuck and they were just freshly introduced to being friends. The more he thought about it, the more nonsensical his feelings appeared. How could he _like _her?

It must have been the doe eyes, the long eyelashes, the way they had seemed to look at him differently, especially when he had removed his shirt in front of her. Or better, right after the kiss, that little release of breath from her beautiful lips, as if he had just kissed her senseless even though he had never dared approach her mouth.

The way her body had moved against his…He was just recalling it. It had seemed like they had been made to dance with the other. And yet, he had never danced with her.

A few days after realizing his feelings, he had received a call from Blair so that she could start the procedures of bringing his father back. Apparently, there really was nothing to it.

Rufus could simply come back.

"So no price on his head anymore?" Dan tried, half-jokingly because he was still concerned for his father's security.

"No price. If anything happens to him, I will personally see to the revenge." Blair assured him.

"I could totally take care of it you know."

"Yeah, I think I know that. But considering you have no idea who I work for and who the client was, it would be considerably harder for you to do so." Blair retorted at the other end of the line with feigned exasperation.

He couldn't tell her that he knew quite a lot more about whom she worked for than she thought.

"Alright, how about a partnership then?" He proposed.

"Well, it only seems logical, considering we are _friends _now."

He got the feeling that Blair must have been smiling, like being friends, officially, filled her with the same exhilarating emotion he was experiencing.

**He knocked on her door. **

_I hope I look like I have made some sort of effort,_ he mused. He had avoided a plaid shirt, knowing her dislike for that pattern. Instead, in some momentary fit of inspiration, he had decided to wear his Caligari t-shirt. She had seen it before, had _noticed _it so she must have found it interesting. He had paired it with a pair of black jeans with casual oxfords.

His hair had been a hopeless case. Combing it had only disentangled his curls into a frenzied mop of hair and he had no time to get it cut. His work with Fawkes had made him gradually more unaware of his physical appearance. Yes, he had lost weight but that was only a consequence of his training, not something he had voluntarily helped.

So instead, he had washed it again and dried it as quickly as time allowed it, curls be damned.

The girls in his program had often said that they liked it, curly and rebellious but Blair was no hipster. Not that he needed to care about her opinion. He would never want to change for a girl, would he? Not after the whole Serena fiasco.

When she opened the door, he suddenly reconsidered his stance.

She had definitely made an effort, one that made it impossible for Dan not to stare. Gone was the eternal skirt Blair loved to wear. In its stead, there was a pair of high-waist yellow shorts that revealed her bare legs. He suddenly wondered why she always wore tights. There was no need for tights. Her legs were beautiful.

She caught him staring and he cleared his throat and thanked his quick mind for finding a good justification for the way his eyes had shamelessly lingered on her lower body.

"Um, we're almost in November…won't you be cold?" He asked a little awkwardly.

"Believe it or not, I've thought of it. I own no pair of 'casual pants' and all the ones I have are way too classy, and expensive, to risk being puked on by drunken freshmen." Blair replied a tad annoyed. "Besides, it's not _that _cold today. If you don't think it appropriate, you can just say it!"

He had to laugh at the way she lost her cool. He could see she was nervous but Blair never admitted nervousness to anybody.

"No, it's perfect." Dan reassured her with a smile. "You look good." He added without looking her in the eyes. "Although, I would take this headband off."

He reached for her hair and gently removed the offensive yellow thing, the last item that could link her to the Upper East Side.

"Now you look like a proper NYU undergrad."

"Joy! That was my goal in life." Blair exclaimed with a sigh, throwing the headband towards her bed before locking the door behind her.

They walked side by side in the dorms' corridor that seemed a little more deserted than usual. He knew everyone was either at the party or crippled with midterms assignment.

"This is, um…this is _not_ weird right? I mean you're not having second thoughts about it. If you think our friendship can't handle a dorm party, I totally understand. It's not like we have ever been anywhere where black ties and cocktail dresses were not a requirement. And I warn you-"

"Humphrey!" Blair cut him. "As if I was not nervous enough before, now you're adding to it. I'll remind you I'm the one who asked you to take me, so if I get disappointed (which I'm sure would be the case) I will have no one but myself to blame!"

"Oh, but I'm sure I'll be hearing some comments afterwards."

Blair elbowed him lightly before laughing.

"Well, yes! That's what being my friend means. Sure you can handle it?"

She was looking at him with raised eyebrows and he was sure she was flirting. He looked away, hiding his smile. He didn't want to believe anything but this playfulness between them was something he enjoyed way too much.

"I definitely can. You're talking to the guy who's known what being hated by Blair Waldorf was like."

"I _didn't _hate you. I just disapproved of you as Serena's boyfriend. Two different things."

He stopped to open the door, allowing her in. She passed by him, and he couldn't help noticing the sway of her hips. Blair thanked him for holding the door. It was all so strange.

"Now, tell me! What should I expect from this party?" Blair inquired.

"Beer, hipsters, leftover jocks who made it into a program of some sorts. Blasting music, not your kind but you'll have to do some dancing anyway. No headbands, you'll notice. Oh, and you're probably the only one who'll be wearing heels."

"What?" Blair exclaimed. "But it's a party!"

"Exactly, people want to be comfortable when they party."

"Well, you should have told me!" Blair exclaimed indignantly, as if he had left her out from a fundamental secret. "I suppose we can still go back."

She made a move to return to the door but he grabbed her arm before she could go far.

"You're getting quite good at grabbing me Humphrey." Blair remarked in a light snicker.

"You are not seriously thinking of changing into flats? What happened to being Blair Waldorf and not caring? I didn't tell you because I figured heels were your trademark. Besides, I'm sure others would be wearing them. Just not as high."

Blair rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Let's just go."

They climbed the stairs in silence while he pondered how exactly he would present Blair to his other friends. They had seen her around before but had always assumed that she was one of those acquaintances Dan disliked. He also knew Leila would be there, who had not liked Blair a lot that time they briefly interacted.

The noises of partying reached their ears and a few students were hanging out in the staircase, away from the crowded rooftop. They paid no attention to Dan and Blair, and for good reason: they were too busy making out.

Blair gave them a look of disgust, which none of them noticed.

When the door to the rooftop was opened, they were almost attacked by a wave of eclectic sounds. Students laughed and screamed while some indie pop music blared all around. Some people were clapping around a crowd of dancers while others chattered loudly, everyone trying to be heard by the others.

He looked at Blair, who seemed transfixed in fear. He thought he would find it hilarious, and he did but he thought her too endearing in that moment. She looked like him, when he had attended his first Upper East Side party as Serena's date.

Then, before he even had time to say anything, she slipped her arm around his, holding it tightly like she was afraid they would be separated.

"You better stay by my side." Blair stated. "I don't know what kind of people they are and if I get trampled upon, you suffer with me."

"You're more likely to trample _them _with those heels." He replied mockingly but tightened their little embrace, silently reveling in the gesture. "You do know that people would most likely conclude that we are dating, right? I don't know if that is the angle you're going for…"

Blair immediately retrieved her arm, making him curse inwardly for ever mentioning it. She said something he was unable to hear properly due to the noises but next thing he knew, Blair punched his right shoulder, looking quite embarrassed.

_Is the idea __that__ repulsive to her?_ He thought. _And why must I always be so self-defeating! _

Perhaps, her embarrassment had more to do with shyness than anything else.

_No, stop it you romantic fool. This is nowhere near a Jane Austen novel. She is with Chuck. They are actually working. _

_What? _He questioned himself and the answer followed soon, from one of the many other voices in his head that he never quite bothered to label.

_It won't last long._

Was he actually looking forward to the doom of that couple?

It seemed selfish but also entirely independent on his feelings. Blair and Chuck's chances of survival had nothing to do with him. The two _were _dysfunctional in their nature.

As for his own feelings, he knew there was nothing to be done except to bury them somewhere deep and far away where they would not bother him in the course of his mission.

He still had to find Bart Bass, and feelings or not, he would have to use Blair to accomplish that.

Yet, tonight would not be the night where Dan would learn to suppress them, quite the contrary.

**When Leila walks into a room, the majority of the men would stare. **She was too tall to be considered common and too curvy to be ignored by the older generation. It never helped that she also wore high heels or that her missions had only served to carve her body into an even more sensual figure.

When Leila walked into the party, even Dan stared at her.

She was wearing leather pants, skin-tight and reminiscent of Michelle Pfeiffer's cat woman. A dark emerald long-sleeved shirt was worn on top. Her dark hair lay loose in a petrol-black waterfall. Her heels were higher than Blair's and consequently, she was taller than everyone.

"Hey, don't lose your jaw over me." Leila teased roughly when she approached the two of them.

She never lost her crude sense of humor.

"You came after all." Dan stated, not yet sure of whether he was happy to see her or not.

He saw Blair move towards him from the corner of his right eye.

"Yeah." She answered, glancing around to assess the atmosphere. When her eyes reached Blair, her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I remember you." Leila said flatly. "You're the girl I'm not forced to be friends with."

"Funny how you can recall that conversation in the exact details." Blair answered almost automatically. " Doesn't feel like it hurt a feeling at all."

"I have a good memory. Sometimes it's a blessing. Other times, it's a curse." The way Leila replied made it quite clear which of the two was the case right then.

They eyed each other, their dislike so palpable he could probably gather it around with his hands.

"So, how come you decided to bring her?" Leila asked him, ignoring Blair's presence.

He raised his shoulders, trying his best to remain nonchalant. As far as he knew, Leila had never thought the two of them were friends, considering the way he had introduced Blair to her back in September.

"I wanted to come." Blair replied defensively.

Leila was all disbelief.

"O-kaaaay." She stated. "In that case, I may have misjudged you."

"Clearly." Blair stated simply.

Dan didn't know what to make of their conversation. The two girls had lost their hostile expressions, like they had suddenly found interest in the other. He knew Leila was not one to hold grudges, mainly since she had easily forgiven him for stealing her kills during the missions they had shared together. And Leila had always been very intent on her kills.

He knew Blair too well though, and sometimes, it scared him. He knew she had not liked Leila from the very first time, knew that it had been due to the fact that Leila was way too bold. He now sensed that Blair's opinion of the girl was wavering, as if caught in between two currents in opposite directions.

"Let's just get something to drink, alright?" He interjected since he really could not stand being caught between the two in what seemed like an awkward (and silent) battle of power. "Beer, anybody?"

There were three beer kegs around the rooftop and he pointed towards one of them but before he could even fathom going there, Blair stopped him.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not drinking whatever questionable liquid is inside that barrel!"

Leila rolled her eyes and he could not help but do the same.

"You wanted to experience, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I'm sure college parties are more than just beer-drinking no?" Blair exclaimed. "Unless this whole thing does turn out to be as disappointing as I had imagined it."

"Ughh, seriously?" Leila said sounding definitely bored. "Man, you're stuck with her. I'm going to find myself a dance partner."

With that, she left them, finding no difficulty in obtaining the said partner. Blair's look was venomous.

He stood there with her for about five minutes. The silence was not so much awkward as it was uncomfortable. It was as if they had no idea how to approach the situation. He could see that group of friends from his program at the other side of the place but he doubted that introducing them to Blair would be a good idea.

He had never partied with Blair. That was the fundamental problem.

He recalled that time during the Spring Dance, where she had refused to dance with him.

_Do it. Just do it. Don't think about it._

He agreed with the voice in his head for once. The next moment, he had Blair's hand in his own. He firmly led her to the make-do dance floor, slightly encouraged by the lack of resistance.

"What are you doing?" Blair shouted over the noise of the blaring speakers.

"We are going to dance." Dan replied.

She leaned forwards so that he could hear her better.

"No, that's not happening!" She sounded uncomfortable.

"Why not?" He felt emboldened, the way someone who was used to an environment would feel when encountering a nervous newbie. " You won't drink beer. You won't dance? Is there anything you _will _do?"

Blair was looking above his right shoulder, clearly adverting his gaze. They were in the middle of the dance floor but they were as immobile as parked cars. Some of the dancers began giving them annoyed looks.

"I just don't like this type of music! It's crass and meaningless and the lyrics are supposed to sound like they mean something but in fact they just don't. And I bet they "

He didn't let her finish because he _knew _there would be no ending. With his arm, he pulled her towards him in one movement and he saw the surprise in her face but he could not stop to care.

"I don't know how to dance this." Was Blair's weak final excuse but something in the way she looked at him seemed to want him to push her.

The music was upbeat but the singer's voice was hoarse, which added a sexy edge to it. Dan had never been a great dancer on his own but he could do very well when with a partner.

And right then, it was Blair and that sexy music and the total absence of Chuck Bass and headbands, her bare legs and their snarky comments. It was everything he had never thought he would experience with her and somehow, the strangers around them allowed him to be bold.

"I'll show you." He replied next to her ear, but not too close, before placing both of his hands on her hips.

Blair was staring at him and in that moment, he almost believed that they were feeling the same way.

He used his hands to guide her movements, pushing her hips to sway lightly sideways, never taking his eyes off hers. Her arms lay stupidly by her side, like she did not know what to do with them, but gradually he felt her moving on her own.

Suddenly, the crowd had closed upon them, forcing Blair closer to him until her hips almost touched his. He expected her to move back with a curse or two for the offensive crowd. He expected her to say that this was a stupid idea, that she had been right all along. But Blair did none of that.

Her look was no more unreadable. She was challenging him but to do what? He was uncertain.

Dan felt her arms wrap around his neck and his blood boil in excitement.

"See, it's not so bad." He said as a way to take himself away from the general elation he was feeling. "You're not a complete disaster."

His teasing felt forced and he knew it.

"Come on, Humphrey. Don't lie. You're enjoying this." Blair teased back and he noticed it sounded just as forced as his comment.

"May be. May be not." He could not say more for fear of betraying himself.

Blair then grinded her hips slowly against his, following the rhythm of the next song. His right hand naturally climbed her back, bringing her closer to him while he moved against her. She continued rolling her hips in movements that were nothing short of sensual and he knew not what to make of it. By then, any trace of awkwardness or mockery had left them. It was as if they had discovered a new dimension, one in which Dan and Blair could actually do such a thing and _enjoy _it.

Her mouth was slightly open as if she were letting out pants that he could not hear over the music. She looked so carefree in that instant. There was a shaded pleasure in her dark eyes that he wanted to believe mirrored his own. He took her arm and turned her so that she was facing away from him, her back against his chest.

"You're right," He said to her. "I am enjoying this."

He held her firmly against him why they continued moving in synchronized waves. He could not see her expression but it was better that way. He was already too overwhelmed.

Then, Blair broke away from him and he thought _that's it!_ But she only twirled, her dark hair following the movement, before she approached him again.

Dan put his arms around her, almost possessively like he had gotten himself used to having her. She smiled, visibly amused.

"Scared the crowd will swallow me whole?" She said, a little breathless.

"For your sake, yes." He replied.

"I'm sure you would know how to fight them off." Blair offered as she positioned his hands on her waist.

"Who said I would do that for you?" Dan teased her.

He was awfully close to her mouth and that was dangerous territory, especially under these circumstances.

"Aren't we friends?" Her eyes widened innocently at the last word.

He pulled her closer.

"Are we?" He counteracted, feeling like this seemingly meaningless chatter appeared to hide other implications.

"You know that." Blair observed him intently.

"Do I? You might run away to Paris soon without letting me know."

He hunched his shoulders, smiling and watching her. Blair glared back at him before stepping away and bumping into another guy in the crowd. He felt a rush of the cold October wind hit him so acutely he almost shuddered.

The guy Blair had bumped into gave her one appreciative look before he started dancing with her. He looked attractive, blond and all American with no particular style. Dan concluded he must have been one of the commerce students.

He never really thought that Blair would dance with a stranger but she bestowed one wicked look towards him before responding to the guy's movements.

Dan could not help but watch her. This was no stupid ballroom dance from her snooty events. She was not the proper Blair Waldorf with an uptight chignon and an even more uptight dress. Her hair wavered freely; her eyes glowed in unrestrained pleasure. Her cheeks burned bright and before he could feel any kind of jealousy, he had to absorb that moment, the picture that she made dancing with an NYU undergrad like she was not the Upper East Side princess he had hated in the past.

However, he soon found himself compelled to pull her back to him. He had been a little too forceful, which made her collapse against him a little clumsily.

"Hey, what was that for?" She chided him.

"You came here with me." Dan replied. They were both back to dancing. The blond stranger gave him one last look of resignation before walking away.

"So that you could help me _socialize_. That was the point, remember?"

"Oh, so Jesse McCartney right there is your type of socializing?"

"Who's Jesse McCartney? You mean that was his name?" Blair said, looking thoroughly confused. Of course, she wouldn't get the reference! "He kept saying something but it sounded more like Clark."

"And anyway" Blair added, "I'm not obliged to stay with you all the time. I came here with a _plan d'attaque_. I need to find minions!"

"Then why are you still here, dancing with me?" Dan remarked.

"You literally pulled me back!"

"But you're still here Blair." He laughed at the way she pursed her lips. She approached him slowly, following the music and placed her hands on his chest, staring intently into his eyes. He thought he was burning from the inside and he knew he was becoming hard. Something in Blair's eyes seemed to indicate that she might have known it too. Her fingers dug into his chest, their hips almost connecting. If he thrust forwards, the contact would destroy him. He knew it.

She smiled like a child who had learned to trick an adult and pushed him off so strongly he crashed onto two girls who had been dancing behind them, causing them both to shriek in annoyance.

He apologized profusely, recognizing them from his 18th century poetry class but when he turned back, Blair was gone.

She could not go very far, that he knew. He could see the other end of the rooftop from where he was. The hidden corners would not look appealing to her as stoners mostly occupied them.

Dan debated whether or not he should go after her.

He reflected on what had just happened. Would it be awkward to continue as if he had not felt a single thing during their dancing?

It would be the logical thing to do and Blair would most likely take that route.

But he needed some time away from her, away from whatever he was feeling.

**In the end, it was his friends who found him first. **They were his fellow literature undergrads with whom he had been spending his time in between classes. Most of them were girls who reminded him of Vanessa. He had never planned to introduce them to Blair. While Leila, who was confident and fashion-forward, had barely managed to warm Blair's feelings, these friends of his would literally be pulverized under her judging look.

"Here you are! We saw you from over there but you never came to see us." Lydia, a dark-skinned girl greeted him.

"Hey!" Dan replied with enthusiasm, welcoming the distraction. They moved away from the chaotic dance floor towards where the stairs were. "Are you guys liking the party so far?"

"For the sake of college experience, yes. But it's nothing we haven't seen before right?" Oliver said, an exceptionably tall and thin young man who dressed in colored skinny jeans and cardigans. "Did you come here with Vanessa? I thought I saw you with someone."

_No, I came with the girl I like._

"No, it's not Vanessa." He was prevented from going into further details by the interruption of a group of five people, four guys and one girl. They all looked merry and very deep into the party spirit. They were most definitely not literature students.

"You guys want to join us? We're lacking girls and two more guys will add to the fun."

Dan, along with his friends, eyed them suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked.

"A game of Truth or Dare, duh." The girl almost screamed unnecessarily. He didn't know what made her thought that it had been obvious, although he should have known that some people could just not get over high school.

"Nuh-uh. I ain't doing that." Hannah, the shyest girl he had ever met, said.

"Isn't high school over?" Dan asked with a laugh. "Don't get me wrong, it's just…you guys don't even know us first!"

"Nobody needs to know anybody. Geez, let me guess. You guys are liberal arts students, or in actuarial sciences or something?"

"Nah, we're in Lit." Lydia answered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"All of you bunch of people just don't know how to have fun." The bulkiest of them said with a tone of self-evidence as if that was a universal truth everybody was aware of. "This is a college party, crazy stupid things are supposed to happen."

"We _know_ how to have fun!" Oliver said defiantly.

"Then join us." The girl suggested.

Somehow, they ended up accepting the offer, although Dan was not so inclined to answer truths to perfect strangers. They picked a spot where there were the least people and sat down on the floor, forming a circle. By then, the sun had become all shades of pink and orange. The party was still beating vigorously. He wondered where Blair was, even worrying for a second before realizing that _she _had chosen to leave his side. Her quest to acquire minions seemed important enough to risk mingling alone with the rest of NYU's students.

He sat next to Lydia and Oliver. In front of him was Hannah who was flanked by two of the guys from the other group. They were both extremely attractive and he could see a distinct blush on her features as she pointedly averted looking in their directions.

"Alright, who wants to start?" The bulkiest guy said. He didn't wait for an answer. "I will. I'm Sean by the way. Not that you'll be remembering that anyways."

He scanned the circle, looking for his victim. Dan was reluctant to admit it, but he did feel quite expectant of the outcome of this game.

His high school experience had deprived him of the usual conventions: bottle spinning kisses, truth or dare, newbie initiations… Dan had been the book reader. Book readers don't get to live these things.

"Dan!" He heard someone call from outside the circle.

It was Leila, followed by Blair.

"Great! We needed more girls. Join us!" Two arms shot out to pull them down. Both Leila and Blair resisted them, complaining that the ground was too dirty for their clothes. At least, they had that in common.

"What's happening?" Leila managed to ask him but Oliver answered her.

"Truth or dare. Don't ask me, I don't even know how I ended up agreeing to this!"

Blair had been seated next to Hannah, in front of him and he could see she was shooting daggers at him as if it was his fault for ever getting her there in the first place.

"Two minutes away and of course, you would involve yourself in some immature "

"Hey!" Sean interrupted. "We're starting here!" He randomly pointed his finger at Lydia who jumped a little in surprise. "Truth or dare?"

And so they started. Lydia chose truth and had to answer to one of the typical questions: had she ever kissed a girl? Sean and his three other male friends had been greatly interested in her answer but Lydia had disappointed them. She had never kissed a girl.

Oliver's turn came, and a guy called Yohji from the group went for it. Gradually, it became clear that choosing truth was boring so Sean instated that truth would be out of the rules. It then turned into a _dare_ game.

Dan had managed to stay under the radar and people especially liked to target Lydia, Oliver and Hannah. Leila and Blair's countenances both seemed to express an extreme hostility and distaste so people stayed away from them.

Oliver was dared to drink one cup of beer as he was held upside down by one of the guys. Lydia had to spring up and kiss a random person in the crowd. They had gone easy on Hannah, noticing how shy she was. The only thing she had to do was imitate some pop star's dance moves.

Soon enough, his turn came.

It was the girl from their group who chose him, probably tired in always picking either Oliver or one of her four friends. She was so excited; he thought she might explode into rainbows and glitters.

"Truth or dare!" She asked him.

"There is no point in asking." Blair replied, barely hiding her contempt for the girl. "We all know he has to choose dare anyway."

The girl, who was named Julie, just waved her off with her hand, visibly too involved in the game to care. Blair rolled her eyes and while he expected to receive a look of annoyance, it was Leila that it had been addressed to. Dan briefly saw Leila nod in agreement and wondered how these two girls had ever reached this point of understanding in the small amount of time that he had been away.

"Dare." Dan replied automatically. He was excited but there was a part of him who was not exactly looking forward to being told to do something stupid in front of Blair.

"I dare you to kiss me." Julie said boldly, making Hannah gasp and Lydia chuckle hysterically. Oliver was grinning and Leila elbowed him supportively. But Blair…Blair looked at him with something like disapproval. His heart reacted violently to the darkness in her eyes, like it had been jumpstarted by electrodes.

He didn't understand any of it, any of her.

But surely enough, he had to do it. Julie approached the middle of the circle, her hazel eyes twinkling in expectation. He vaguely heard Oliver cheering for him, accompanied by Lydia. Leila gave him a push forward.

When his mouth connected with Julie's, he felt something shift in him. It was the knowledge that Blair was watching them that made his stomach tie itself into unsolvable knots. She was so close…

Julie deepened the kiss, moving her tongue across his and grabbing his cheek with her hand. Somewhere behind, the guys were letting out howls of appreciative laughter. He must have been kissing her back too but in his head, she had dark hair and dark eyes and smelled of refined flowers.

"Ugh, alright. This is verging on pornographic. Show's over." Leila exclaimed, pulling him back by the arm.

"Oh come on!" Yohji complained. "That's the point of choosing dare. So we can see scandalous stuff."

"And he's a good kisser too." Julie almost squealed in disappointment. "We can always continue later, if you're up for it?"

"Uh, I'm fine, thanks."

He returned to his seat, next to Lydia's. He avoided looking towards Blair but he felt watched. His palms had become sweaty and he could not join in with Lydia and Oliver, who were still laughing at him.

"I'll be next if you don't mind." Leila stated nonchalantly, not really expecting anybody to contradict her.

He still stubbornly ignored Blair. What was she still doing there anyways? Dan sensed her unease as if she had been emitting radio waves that only he could decrypt. This was not the usual type of activity she enjoyed. There was nobody here whom she liked except him, and judging from her late manners and displeased looks, he was dropping fast on her list of people she could be friends with. He knew not what he had done wrong. Was it the dancing? He…_they _(for she was as much accountable as he was, even if she may refuse to admit it) had overstepped some invisible boundaries. Blair was not Serena. She could never have been comfortable dancing like that with him and yet, she had.

His head was beginning to ache from the thinking and the music. He had not drunk any thing thankfully but he felt dizzy nonetheless.

"I choose you." Leila pointed at Blair and inevitably, he had to look at her.

Blair was raising both her eyebrows in surprise, an uncontrollable blush taking over her cheeks. The rest of the group watched expectantly. Blair and Leila had, until then, been spared from the game and it seemed rather astonishing that the two most reluctant participants would be the ones to face each other. Dan saw this with great interest. He felt a movement of subtle friendliness, as if Leila had been the only one who could address a dare to Blair and vice-versa.

"What do you ask of me?" Her tone was cool and composed, so different from anyone else. She was not having fun and it is that very realization that made everyone else eager to see how the events would unfold.

Dan dreaded Leila's words. If ever something ridiculous was asked of her, like a drinking contest or a humiliating challenge like going up to a random person and stroking her cheek, Blair would officially learn to dislike this world. His world.

"I dare you to kiss Dan." Leila said in a brisk tone.

His heart froze. He heard Oliver lean in and whisper, "Isn't that the girl you told us about, from your high school?" like he just noticed. Sean and Yohji were saying that they had not yet obtained one kiss, and that may be all the dares should become kisses. He heard them debate while Julie said she'd kiss them if they really wanted to. Lydia was just laughing.

Blair was not looking at him.

"She can't." Dan stated. "She has a boyfriend."

He felt a bitter taste spread itself in his mouth, wondering why he was so conscious of Chuck Bass's feelings or even why he seemed to care that the both of them should hold together. At that moment, Blair gave him a look that appeared almost ephemeral. He barely caught it.

Blair had appeared hurt by his statement.

She stood up, smoothed her shorts and brushed away any possible dirt from the ground.

"I have to go."

Dan watched her walk away while the others complained that this was against the rules. At this time, any further thoughts of the game or his friends had long abandoned him. He had come to this party with her and he could not allow her to leave it alone.

Dan made a movement to stand up but he was caught back by Leila.

"What!" He exclaimed quite adamantly.

Leila looked at him rather oddly, like she knew something he was not privy too.

"Why did you say that?" She questioned.

"Say what?"

"Her boyfriend. Why did you say that?"

"Because she does…look, I know her…" Dan stammered while Leila's eyes regarded him with raw exasperation.

"Idiot. I would have expected no less from you anyway. You like her. I could have gouged my eyes out before coming here and still seen it." Dan winced at the imagery she chose to use. Leila continued, "I just gave you a chance, but no, you'd have to blow it away, Mr. I'd-rather-avoid-my-feelings. She likes you too, that's why she left."

Dan was immobilized by Leila's statement. He respected her so much, as a fighter, as a friend and as a tutor of some sort to him. He knew he should trust her judgment. He _wanted _to. He felt like an unopened bottle of soda, his feelings waiting to burst free at the smallest indication that there could be hope. Leila released his arm at last, allowing him to go after Blair.

**He found her by the stairs, trying unsuccessfully to get past a drunken couple that was blocking the way. **

"Blair!"

She turned towards him before immediately giving her his back.

"Are you…are you well?" Dan asked before regretting it. His question had sounded like he was doubting her mental stability.

Blair remained silent. Taking a hint, he unceremoniously pushed aside the drunken boyfriend, sending his female counterpart (who was glued to his lips) in the same direction.

She did not thank him. She proceeded to go down the stairs, her heels making a regular sound on the stony ground. He heard it like one would hear the slamming of a door.

They went on like that until they reached her dorm room. She took out her key, inserted into the door but struggled to open it.

"Let me do it." Dan offered, extending his hand and brushing hers at the same time. He had touched her hands before but that little brush, the contact of his skin on the warmth of hers, just seemed different. It seemed accidental, like the inconsequential events of a romance's buildup. He managed to open the door, and still ignoring him, she went inside.

Blair pushed the door and Dan realized she wanted to close it. His frustration was too great and Leila's words were still playing in his mind so he put his hand on it, stopping the movement short.

He walked to her, forgetting how much she hated being contradicted whether in words or in actions. He closed the door behind him. Blair stared at him, but he could see she was nervous.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly though he knew everything was wrong. "Can you just tell me? Are we already done being friends?"

Blair took a step back.

"Why did you say I had a boyfriend?" She answered, her voice as low as his.

"Because it's the truth. I figured you would not want to do it…that you would not want to kiss me. I know how…horrendous the idea would be to you. I mean, you've disapproved of me with Serena and you've spent most of the last years reminding me that I am no boyfriend material. And yeah, I'm over that don't worry but…" He stopped. He was rambling and that was not good.

Blair turned to the side. He could see the outline of her chin, the smooth figure that her neck made and the beautiful dark hair falling like a forest on her shoulder.

"That's funny, I had the impression that _you _just didn't like the idea of kissing me." Her reply was cold and distant, like she was trying to sound emotionally uninvolved in this conversation.

It was a bizarre remark to make, especially coming from Blair. Leila's words just flew back to his mind. What if?

"Blair…" He began, exhaling slowly. He saw her turn further away, her chest rising slightly. He didn't know how to proceed so he walked to her and tentatively set a hand on her shoulder. She stilled beneath his touch and he waited to see her reaction. Seeing no sign of repulsion, he allowed his fingers to massage it gently. The warmth of her skin could be felt from the thin fabric of her expensive blouse and he felt emboldened so he moved his hand to the beginning of her neck where he brushed his fingers lightly. Blair let out an imperceptible sigh and he felt her tremble a little.

It was to intimate but he knew that one second more and he would have kissed her. He would have turned her around and pulled her to him, Chuck Bass be damned, and shown her that he too could be good to her. That he knew how to kiss her like she was his, like may be they were more than just acquaintances; may be they were worth more than Serena and Chuck.

But then, there was a knock on the door and his hand immediately pulled away. Blair turned, her cheeks red and her gaze averting his.

"Miss Blair, it's me Dorota. We have special meeting now! Quick!"

Dan muttered a goodbye to Blair's figure before opening the door, saluting Dorota and walking away from the place.

He was doomed and his heart throbbed from the possibility of what could have transpired between them. How could he face her again?

Perhaps, it had all been for the better, he told himself.

**I'm SORRY. Oh God, I feel bad everytime I write these author notes because I just feel pathetic because I keep repeating the same mistake I apologize for. But honestly, I am happy to update. This chapter is kind of packed with events. **

**By now, I think it's safe to say that they are both attracted to each other. Blair tries hard to hide it but I think her reaction to Dan's dare and his comment kind of hit home. She felt like she could never be considered girlfriend material to him while he felt the same way about her. A little bit of irony. **

**The long awaited kiss will take place soon. But there will be complications. I have told you that I have plans for this fic to be a little long. I think we all need it, especially since there seems to be no Dair planned for the last season **

**Anyways, reviews and comments, I will always love to read so if you feel kind enough, leave me one!**


	21. Chapter 21: Finding

**As promised, this chapter will have some good stuff. Brace yourselves Dairlings!**

There was so much to be done. Her recent escapades for Cercle 19 had cost her many of the lecture sessions and Blair was beginning to understand why university differed so much from high school. Essays had piled up and while Dorota was surprisingly effective at finding relevant sources, she was hopeless in formulating any sort of argument.

Their surprise meeting of last Friday, the one that had interrupted something that Blair would rather avoid thinking about, had reconfigured even further her role in the organization. Her deal with Bart Bass was to be respected at all cost, and he made sure of it.

"Congratulations on the success of your previous mission." Bart said to her although he seemed unmoved by the news. He looked especially sharp that evening, wearing a burgundy tie and a grey suit. She wondered what the occasion was but never dared ask the question.

"How is the Rufus Humphrey case going?"

"Well" was her curt reply. She was aware of how much reluctance had been involved in getting Bart to accept the deal. Any positivity or enthusiasm would not be welcomed.

"I assume our deal is to be respected then. You and your maid are here for a reason."

Blair could feel Dorota's suspicion brewing. One look revealed that her maid was scowling subtly at Bart, although he paid her no attention.

"I want you to spy on my son." Bart stated, his eyes fixed on Blair.

"Spy on him?"

"Yes. I'm assuming that the two of you are in love so that should only make things easier." Bart said, waving his hand nonchalantly which told Blair just how much he did not care about their affairs of the heart. "I have heard that he is on a quest to find the identity of his mother."

The first thing that came to her mind was:

"Why?"

Bart was staring right into her and she felt the weight of his gaze pin her uncomfortably into the stiff leather chair she was sitting on. He seemed to question her own question, although silently, without even saying anything.

She was a subordinate; her deal for Rufus' return had made it certain. Subordinates don't ask questions. The time when Blair could be allowed that luxury was gone. She was a slave to Cercle 19.

"I don't think it is of any concern to you." He answered, keeping his tone even. "Now, I want you to provide me with a weekly report of his doings, particularly those in relations to his search. I want phone histories, pictures of suspicious documents, ideas of his whereabouts and who is helping him out."

"Why you need me then?" Dorota asked brusquely, staring at him like he was a rebellious stain on the wall.

"You are a maid and I believe you know other maids. I have seen you hanging out with Frieda, the woman who takes care of my son's apartment." He paused to look at his cellphone and frowned. "Well anyway. Use your gossiping time to gather information. On this, you're free to go but I expect a solid report by next Friday."

He gestured them to leave and Dorota glared at him all the while. There were many questions Blair wished she could have asked. Why was it such a problem for Chuck to find his mother? Who was she? And ultimately, would Blair be able to lie to him, to prevent him from finding the person he most longed to meet? It was hard to convince herself that there was a nice reason, an altruistic, paternal motivation behind Bart's orders. Bart had never cared about Chuck. She tried not to think about it, all the while avoiding Dorota's eyes knowing they would only make things worse. Spying on Chuck, was the biggest breach of trust she could fathom and yet, what could she do about it?

Dan called her about five times during the course of the next week. Every time his name appeared on the screen of her phone, her heart made a little jump, which was in itself ridiculous. She could not interpret the meaning of that physiological reaction, could not even devote a second to it because it would require her to recall the events of the party. Blair did not want to do that.

Her copy of _The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari_ was on her side table, a reminder of him that she could not quite manage to put away. The haunting picture of the man with the sallow face and black hair on the cover clashed almost obscenely with the décor of her room. Yet, it stayed, and she vowed to watch it eventually.

Chuck showed up around five in the afternoon, looking as dashing and out of place in his purple suit as he could be. She kissed him on the cheek but he turned her face so that his lips touched hers.

"I think I deserve better for walking down that corridor and being stared at by all these _people_."

"You see what I have to put up with?" Blair said, closing the door behind.

"What is the plan?" Chuck asked. "I haven't had a chance to see you in so long. All the more reasons to hate this sorry school."

She could see he was a bit distant and for a while, she thought of Bart's mission. By the end of the night, she had to give him news of his son's venture. Dorota's gossip vendetta earned them a few snippets of information; apparently, Chuck had visited a gentleman's club in downtown New York, something that was conjectured by Frieda from the hotel cards she found in his drawer. However, the maid could not remember the exact name of the hotel or the time of visit, making the information almost useless to relay. Blair would have to do some serious coaxing before the night ended.

They first enjoyed a meal Chuck had ordered from one of Blair's favorite restaurants and she was grateful for the expensive French quiches and red wine. Lately, her food consumption limited itself to an occasional coffee and sandwich combo from the most fancy café NYU could offer, which was not much to say. Blair missed the true, expensive gourmet food of her old life; waking up in her satin bed sheets with Dorota having laid a plate of golden croissants right next to her.

Yet, seeing Chuck did not seem to make her spirits rise anymore. It was as if she had turned into someone else, someone who had come to accept NYU as part of her identity. Just this simple thought filled her with a sense of inevitable dread and she looked upon Chuck as her last link to the Upper East Side. He had not lost an inkling of his self, while she felt like another Blair. She kissed him with a little too much motivation for it to be considered spontaneous. He seemed to interpret it as longing but Blair knew that it was her drowning move.

Chuck was about to unzip her dress when she felt a contradictory impulse rise in her as sudden and forceful as a geyser. She was not feeling like it, despite what she had deluded herself into thinking. Kissing Chuck wouldn't make her feel better about being in NYU, nor was sleeping with him.

She tried to convince herself that it wouldn't feel right to use sex as a way to ease the process of extracting information. Had they not sworn not to scheme against the other after all? That was what it was, just a way for Blair to keep the last shred of honor that Cercle 13 had not yet managed to destroy.

It had certainly nothing to do with what had almost happened with Dan last Friday. Blair was almost convinced of that. Almost.

Chuck pulled away with a sigh. His dark eyes shone with lust and frustration. He straightened his tie, a habit that reminded her so much of Bart Bass.

"I'm tired. Can we just cuddle?" Blair suggested, while caressing his shoulder. Chuck stayed impassive for a few second and she was scared she had angered him. "Please?"

"Sure."

He lay back on her bed and she settled herself next to him.

"How is your quest for minions going?" He asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Blair was glad for the question.

"Doing my best." She lied. "You remember Courtney Garcia's daughter? Turns out she never got the grades for Ivy League schools."

"The dark-haired one who crushed on Nate so hard. Of course I remember."

"He never liked her."

"No. Nate's always been about you." Chuck states a little softly. She feels his arm push her closer to him, a possessive gesture.

"And Serena." She remembered things that hurt and immediately, it's Dan she thought of. The golden girl with the reject from Brooklyn, the type of story everybody loved. And she had been the bitch of the saga, the Caroline Bingley of it all.

"He's an idiot, you know him. I love _you_." Chuck whispered, kissing her temple. She was not able to enjoy it. Something was wrong and it almost brought her to tears. Why did it suddenly feel like his feelings for her, the ones she had chased around for a good year, mattered no more? She thought of someone else. Someone with curly hair and the rambling habits of an old man. Someone who had loved Serena before. It seemed unfair and she wanted to scream because once any guy became enamored with her, they became trapped forever. They'll always choose Serena.

"How was your week?" She asked to distract herself but also to set her agenda into motion.

"You know. A bit of nothing. I've…well, I'm trying to retrace my mother."

She feigned surprise but she also felt truly concerned.

"And?"

"I think I may be close to it. Apparently, my father was part of a club, somewhere downtown. That's where they met. It was a long time ago but the list of members and attendees are always kept in an archive. I can get access to it."

"Archive? A club? Doesn't that sound strange?" Blair asked a little bewildered. She thought Cercle 19 was the only organization that existed or that was worth getting into. She could be so naïve sometimes.

"It's my father we're talking about. He hid his documents behind paintings in our penthouse." He laughed grimly. "It's called The Circle, and even Nate's dad was part of it."

Her heart almost stopped.

"The Circle?" She repeated breathlessly.

"Yes. Odd isn't it? They have a large round table and people play cards. Lots of drinking. It was only my first time, so I'm not sure what the point of the club is yet."

"You guys didn't have to wear masks or anything?" She tried to play it off as a joke but her question came out rather nervous.

"Mmm, not that I remember. Why? Are you into stuff like that?" He said suggestively. His thumb stroked her shoulder while his lips found her neck. She could not refuse him that small pleasure so she stretched her neck, giving him better access. It was not unpleasant. Never. Chuck was experienced. She closed her eyes, drifting into the feeling of his heated kisses, imagining the mouth of someone else. Someone wordier. Someone she could not have.

**Chuck left her around eight. She closed the door behind him, before allowing herself to fall on her bed and think of what he had told her.** The Circle, whatever that was, sounded too similar to her own elite organization. This was not a coincidence and she now understood why Bart wanted her to keep track of his sons' doings.

What if Chuck found out?

She had always believed that he would accept it. Yet, it was a secret kept from him and for once, honesty had become a crucial aspect of their relationship. Chuck told her about everything, about his mother and The Circle, his issues with Bart…

Blair had to make sure he never finds out.

Just as she was about to remove her blouse, someone knocked at the door.

_Has Chuck forgotten something?_ she thought, glancing around the room for any signs of an expensive tie or cufflink.

Her blouse was halfway undone, but figuring out that it must have been Chuck, she opened the door nonetheless. It was not Chuck.

"What are you doing here?" She exclaimed bluntly, feeling a blush as red as her favorite lipstick overcoming her cheeks.

He walked in and closed the door.

"You haven't returned any of my calls." He stated, sounding defiant.

His hair was particularly unruly, like he had been running the whole day. She felt the cold wafting from him. He must have been outside for a long while. He was wearing his all-black outfit, the one she would forever associate with his missions.

"Have you been _working_?" Blair inquired. She tried discreetly to button up her blouse but her fingers were nowhere near cooperating.

The room felt too small and Dan, in his height seemed to take so much space. Blair tried to retreat to her bed but the nervousness was nowhere near being atoned. It was ridiculous! Why would Dan Humphrey make her nervous?

_Picture him as Serena's puppy, remember? Rambling lonely boy?_

It was hard to do so when Dan stood in front of _her_, very much coherent and wearing all black.

"I took a long walk." He looked tense. "Were you sick?"

"No."

He breathed out, looking relieved. She instantly felt a rush of affection for him. He had been concerned for her this whole time and it was harder not to feel guilty about dodging his calls.

"I thought someone…you know, from those drug mobsters. I thought they might have gotten to you." Dan said with a smile and it was too endearing but she could not start to feel anything.

"I'm Blair Waldorf, Humphrey. There is no way anybody would have recognized me."

"Not in jeans, yes, I know." Dan added.

They looked at each other. His eyes dropped to her exposed cleavage but he quickly turned away. Haphazardly, she managed to button it up.

"You still haven't watched Dr. Caligari? How long has it been here?" Dan questioned, raising his eyebrows and pointing at the DVD on her table.

"I was busy, I'll have you know!"

Dan chuckled, amused.

"I bet you were. Busy avoiding my calls, was it?"

"No, I had essays to write!" Her defensiveness was too obvious and they both knew it.

Silence settled between the two of them and she tried to find something to do. Her agenda was on the desk, which was too close to where Dan stood. There were books but they were entirely useless in this situation. She could hardly open up her copy of _Atonement_ and start reading it with Dan sitting on the other bed. The fact that he didn't try to talk was also indicative that something was off. He should have been rambling by now, telling her about his day or classes or the last movie he had watched. Instead, Dan was quiet, avoiding her gaze but nonetheless, he remained where he was. She did the only thing she could.

"Want to watch it now?" Blair suggested, taking the DVD in her hands.

"Here?" He was surprised.

"Yes. It was Bridget Jones at yours and some vintage horror at mine. Of course, I'm the classier of the two."

Dan laughed derisively.

"I'll remind you that you only wanted to watch this because of me. Remember my shirt?" He removed his jacket and folded it on the bed. "Besides, you're not the horror type, are you?"

"It depends how you define it." She stood up to take out her laptop.

"I certainly don't mean watching Jennifer Aniston's Prada gown being ripped to pieces by some angry bridesmaid." He was teasing her and she knew it but she felt the need to defend herself nonetheless.

"I meant that I don't like the bloody torture. Who would pay to enjoy that?"

"So you're a ghost person?"

"Yes, more or less." Blair admitted.

The truth was, she didn't like horror and never did. Nate had tried to make her watch a few, _House of Wax_ included and she only accepted because she had been infatuated with him. Nate could ask her now and she would refuse vehemently. She despised films where one was not allowed enough time to enjoy the characters. She preferred dialogue and myriads of emotions, good acting and comedy.

"Are you ever going to give a clear answer?" Dan complained with a sigh. She was happy that they were going back to their natural rhythm of conversation. It took so much of the tension away and she could afford not to think of Dan in any inappropriate manner.

"I don't think so. I'd rather keep you guessing."

"Suit yourself. You're not as interesting as you make yourself to be." He countered. "So how do we do this?"

There was one chair and two beds. Hers was the most comfortable and had enough pillows for the two of them. The answer was evident. She deposited the laptop on the chair and edged it closer to the bed. Dan understood and proceeded to arrange the pillows against the wall. When he was done, he seemed uncertain.

"This is…different." He said before cautiously sitting on the bed like it might swallow him whole any second.

She could understand. Normally, watching movies had always taken some kind of special environment. The living room of her home had always been ideal. There had to be an actual television, some gourmet food of kinds and a comfortable seat. Her bed was too soft so they sat unevenly. The satin pillows would not stay in place. And most annoying of all, she had to fight the urge to lean closer to him.

"Thank God it's only an hour long." Blair offered as an apology of sorts for the odd setup but Dan didn't seem uncomfortable at all. He then stood up and she thought he was about to leave. Her heart almost sank. She had been looking forward to watching this movie with him; perhaps more than she cared to admit to herself.

"Just turning the lights off, Waldorf." Dan told her. He had become too good at reading her and the cocky smile was incentive enough to kick him out had the urge to spend time with him been weaker.

They watched as Cesare, the somnambulist, predicted the death of Alan after he awoke from his trance-like slumber. The actors, in Blair's opinion, all looked eerie, like people who had survived the underworld. The black and white only added to that impression and so did the darkness around them.

She couldn't help but glance sideways at Dan, whose face she could see from the light of the screen. He was focused on the movie most of the time, but once, she had caught him looking at her and her heart could not have jumped higher. They both smiled awkwardly before turning to the film, like that had been no interruption.

It was harder to comprehend anything after that. The characters became moving shapes, whose words she could not understand. The intrigue was lost to her and all she was really aware of was Dan's proximity.

It was silly, when an hour ago, she had been with her boyfriend, on the same bed but feeling entirely devoid of the desires that were currently assaulting her. He was Dan. Serena's Dan. His sister was Little J, for God's sake! The boy she had spent a whole lot of time denigrating back at Constance. His curly hair had always been an offence and now, she just wanted to pass her fingers through it. From the corner of her eye, she discerned one curl, just above his left temple, standing like a lonely rebel against the mass. She was itching to place it back, being an advocate of conformity, but at the same time, this was what made him Dan.

She knew she shouldn't have danced with him.

He must have shifted for her shoulder suddenly came in contact with his. There went the last shred of attention she was paying to the movie. The fabric of their clothes separated their skins but she did feel _his_ strength through the hardness of his muscle. It was a cosmic form of taunting she knew it. Why had Chuck's shoulders never felt that way? She was torn between moving away and staying frozen just as she was.

She remained, feigning utter indifference although her insides were twisting into painful longing. The movie would be over soon and Dan would leave, releasing her from this inconvenient desire and then, she could be back to being Blair Waldorf. She would reorganize her thoughts into coherence and banish all inappropriateness involving a certain Humphrey from her mind and all would be well in the world.

Dan didn't move either. They both remained, shoulders brushing and elbows aching, neither looking anywhere near moving.

When the end credits appeared on the screen, Blair almost jumped up. The uncomfortable feelings she was experiencing were about to be over. She walked to the light switch and turned it on. Her eyes took some time to get accommodated.

"How did you like it?" Dan asked her. He was still on the bed, looking rather comfortable as he leaned on his elbows to be able to see her. She wished he would leave.

There was nothing she could clearly remember from it, except perhaps, Cesare's face and that was poor material for a critique.

"It was good." Blair replied, knowing how lame her answer sounded. "It actually made me very sleepy too so "

"So you did not like it?" Dan cut in.

"I did! Very much." Blair defended. "It was aesthetically appealing and…well, it was good!"

Dan looked like he didn't believe a word and it seemed useless to keep on justifying anything.

Dan was adorable, she realized for the hundredth time since last Friday's party. She could now clearly remember Serena's words; how her friend had loved his shy smile or the way he'd always tease without ever angering her. However, Blair had discerned different things in him. She knew him more than anyone else. More than his own family. More than Serena herself.

She knew that outside of school, he was no rambling introverted bookish young man. She had seen the great, confident, _fighter_ Dan and it had not seemed so bizarre to her. It was as if she had always know, deep inside, that the lonely boy from Brooklyn was bound to be something bigger. She had spent so much time nurturing a dislike for him when she had known that they were the same; overachievers who were too driven to be understood. There was a reason why Dan was a hired gun, just like her. It had not been anyone from her world. Not even Chuck.

"Well, I'll go." Dan said as he stood up. She could do nothing but watch him walk to the other bed to fetch his jacket. He walked past her to the door and stopped.

"Good night, Blair."

Then, he was gone.

"That's it?" She said out loud, utterly disappointed and relieved at the same time.

Where was the insistence? Didn't he want to make her feel bad for not answering his call? What was _that_? He didn't even stay long enough to defend the movie, like he was wont to do. They had not spoken for a week, and he was contented with this poor excuse of a hang out?

She didn't know what she had been looking for exactly; all she was certain of is that she had imagined everything. Obviously, he never had any slightest intention of kissing her that Friday night. He had not been overwhelmed by thoughts of her lips, her hands and her hair. Dan did not reciprocate whatever it was the she was feeling.

She heard a knocking on her door, the third one of that evening.

_It's him. It has to be him._

Opening that door was the most nerve-wracking thing she had had to do in her life. It trumped any of the missions for Cercle 19 she had done so far.

Of course, it was Dan, standing there looking far too serious. He walked in and she wondered where her voice had wandered off.

"Do you know why I took a walk today?" He asked brusquely, as if this had been part of an ongoing conversation without any interruption.

"No." Her voice sounded so tiny and she felt her heartbeat rise to a frantic rhythm.

"I was thinking, all this time." His tone betrayed frustration. His shoulders were tense and he gripped the head of her wooden bed as if to steady himself. "Why would she not return my calls? Did I do something wrong? It's not easy to know with you, Blair. You just love to avoid, like you did last summer. Like you did this whole week!" Dan walked up to her, looking at her steadily with those dark, intelligent eyes. She couldn't hold them, not for long. It was probably why Dan added, "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"No, I don't know. Please, enlighten me." Blair retorted. She would resort to feigning ignorance until the very end. Now that the moment of confrontation came, she realized that she would rather not go through it. There were things better left not discussed and this was one of them.

"_Enlighten you_?" Dan repeated. "No, I think you should enlighten _me_! Why did you avoid me Blair?"

"I was busy. I didn't have time all right? Being friends doesn't automatically mean we have to be "

"You're afraid."

She stopped because the statement was truth. It was what she could not bring herself to admit, not when he was almost too close for intelligible thoughts. She felt the blush coming as Dan's fingers lightly brushed her shoulders. Their light, ephemeral touch was in itself so overwhelming. She felt invaded with a lust yet never experienced, something only Dan, with his deep voice and unmatched intellectualism, could bring to her.

He watched her, silently asking for an answer. She could never admit to being afraid, not to any man.

"I'm not." Her eyes locked to his, she breathed before smiling like nothing was the matter. His hands left her shoulders but she kept her expression as neutral as the walls of the building's corridors.

Dan stepped back.

"Do you want me to kiss you Blair?" He asked.

_Yes_, she wanted to say because that was it. This whole week, her attempt to see Chuck, had all been distractions, ways to deviate her mind from Dan. Because kissing _would _change everything and this is what she was truly afraid of.

"I'm with Chuck." Dan frowned slightly at the name. He had never liked Chuck.

"No. Not now. You're with me." It could have sounded possessive, almost something that her boyfriend would say but Dan did not mean it that way. He and Blair, together. Since that moment at his loft, right after she had killed her first victim, Blair had felt that the two of them were something entirely different. They existed in their own independent realm, as killers and unlikely friends. This is what Dan meant because Chuck or Serena could never come close to that world.

"One kiss. Just the lips. Nothing else." Blair commanded shakily. Dan just smiled.

"As you wish."

He took a step closer and she closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of his breath before anything else and it diffused throughout her whole body. His lips lightly brushed hers and she fought the savage urge to break her own rules, propriety be damned. She waited for more contact but Dan never gave it to her. Her eyes flew open, finding a very flustered Dan surveying her, almost afraid of her reaction. It made her heart flutter.

"That's it? I didn't feel anything!" Blair taunted, feeling more comfortable in teasing him than anything else.

"Well, perhaps you could also add duration to all your specifications, right?" Dan countered, stumbling on his words.

"For someone who seemed so adamant to prove a point, you could have insisted a little, don't you think? I've felt more watching that dreadful movie than from your lips!"

Dan's eyes widened and he raised a finger to point at her.

"I knew you didn't like it." He asserted confidently. "But excuse me for not wanting to be slapped for overstepping boundaries!"

"You barely overstepped any! You call that a kiss?" Blair replied, letting a small laugh escape from her mouth.

"Why don't you take charge then? Kiss me." He dared her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Clearly, I'm better at that." She approached him and suddenly realized that kissing without using one's hands was harder. He was taller and while she could lift herself on her toes, she was already overwhelmed by the contradictory emotions in her. She could not trust herself for stability so she laid a hand on his bicep, secretly reveling in the feeling, before bringing her lips closer to his. But before she could complete the movement, Dan put a hand on her own, slowly detaching it from his biceps.

"Remember your own rules, Waldorf." He whispered against her lips, as he released her hand. The hoarseness of his voice, the lingering warmth of his hand, their proximity were all working against her.

She pressed her lips against his a little more forcefully than she had meant to. Her hands wanted to climb his face, fist his hair and bring him closer than what was humanly possible but she forced them to remain clamped along her body. She did feel him exhale, as though he had been holding his breath for a whole week and she did the same. She tried to remember what to do next but it was obvious that anything would make all her silly rules crumble away. Blair pulled herself back, meeting Dan's eyes.

They are both breathless and he was looking at her like she had never been looked at before, not by Nate, not by Chuck, not anybody.

"Blair…" He whispered, grabbing her by the waist and capturing her lips and in that moment, she could not object to anything.

His lips were all at once. They were insisting, but so soft that she could accept it and yearn for more. He moved her to the door, leaning her back against it while he angled his face to meet her mouth, sigh for sigh. She could not think of anyone, anything, any reason why this was not right. His left hand cupped her face, moving from her neck to her cheek in heated caresses while his right one was in her hair. She felt his warm fingers massing her scalp and she tried remembering ever feeling something more pleasant in her life but nothing came to mind.

She clutched his black jacket before moving to his neck. Dan made a noise, like a rough moan, prompting her to reach for his hair. His curls…how could she have ever hated them? It seemed entirely unreasonable. She took a fistful, pushing him closer, slipping her tongue so it could move against his. Her breath was uneven, if not gone altogether.

Dan suddenly pulled back. She was so close that his chest heaved against hers.

"Dan!" She moaned in frustration, like she had been the one to instigate this kiss, like she had never set any limits. His face was entirely lost, so overwhelmed in feelings he was but he looked at her like he _had _to kiss her. Their hands were still on various parts of the other's body and his gently stroked her before bowing to kiss her once more.

The second time, it was gentler and his tongue was tracing her lower lip in a slow motion. Blair felt herself tremble with emotions that went beyond lust. She broke the kiss to take hold of the hand on her cheek, finding it as shaky as her own. His nervousness was all it took to convince her that he cared, that this was much more than an experiment.

"I'm sorry." Dan apologized like he was ashamed for betraying his worry.

"Don't be. Look at me. I can barely hold it together." Blair whispered before kissing his hand. Dan pressed it, using his thumb to rub her palm.

He found her other hand and put it against his chest. She felt his heartbeat, violent and unrestrained, much like her own. The realization that she was doing this to him was doing nothing to calm her own heart.

"It's been a while now, every time I think of you, Blair."

Her hand couldn't quite move from the feeling that was Dan Humphrey's heart. Somehow, it was too intimate, too beautiful. She might have been Blair, might have ruined his high school years, but she could never be insensitive to this.

"What are we going to do?" Blair asked.

**So this is it guys. The chapter you have been waiting for. I hope I did not disappoint (please let this be good!) and I am so happy to finally update this story! I really enjoyed writing this chapter.**

**As you know, this story is about to get more complicated. It may look all pink for Dan and Blair but they are hired killers so something is meant to happen to throw us apart ****… Oh, I'm ruining the fun now. Okay, I just hope you are all having a great holiday!**

**Please review if you can **** as it would be very much appreciated!**


	22. Chapter 22: Wait for Me

**I am sorry for the long time it took me to update. Very, very, very sorry. I hope you, dear readers, still have it in you to review. **

**This is dedicated to Magnus57 who has stuck throughout all my fics. Thank you for being the best reader a fanfic writer could wish for.**

She was having the worst weekend one could ever possibly have. She could have pretended her sleepless Saturday night was nothing but a product of Cercle 19's looming presence over her whole life but this would have been a lie and in the spirit of Dan's words, she could not keep on ignoring things forever.

That kiss had thrown her into a maelstrom, an inescapable whirlwind of questions. It had shaken her to the very core and she had lain in her bed, thinking and thinking until thoughts turned into vivid images instead.

What was she going to do? She had undeniable feelings for Dan, although of what nature, she did not know.

_It must be this whole killing business_, Blair reasoned. _It can only be that_.

Chuck was no more her kindred or her partner in crime. She had moved on from petty blackmailing and mundane intimidation. She had gone past Chuck's realm of shady behavior. She was where Chuck could not help anymore. If it was common interest and a shared love for scheming that had put them together, then those things had dematerialized along with her conviction in their relationship.

_But I love him_. Tears gathered in her eyes but she could not put them anywhere. It was not entirely sadness, nor disappointment, nor shame. It was disillusion such as Blair had never experienced in her life because she did love Chuck and yet, it was not enough anymore. She felt fractured in two: one side was the Blair of her Upper East Side life and the other was the killer persona.

Chuck loved her when no one else could have. He had loved her through her disgrace, through her shame and most atrocious phases. He knew perfectly what pleased her, how her expensive tastes could be indulged…but he didn't know all of her, not anymore.

It was around four in the morning. Her bed covers rustled with her movements in murmurs of indiscernible emotions. What was keeping her moving about like a wild bird? Was it the thought of liking Dan or being liked by Dan? Or worse…being _touched _by Dan.

_I'm not in love with Dan_. _I cannot be. One dorm party doesn't make for falling in love._

Blair could not love him, could she? And yet, it was not a mere crush either. He knew her now in ways that nobody else could.

They had sparred physically and verbally. He teased her spoiled princess tendencies, called her out on her caprices. He was never going to revere her love for luxury. He owned no Lanvin suits or Choppard watches. He probably didn't even know what those brands were.

When she liked anything, be it a book or movie or whatever, he was quick to point out its flaws. "So typical of you Blair!" To which she'd quickly retaliate with a scorching remark on his own taste for the unrefined (and irrelevant!) things in life.

It was funny. Despite all of this, Dan still knew exactly who she was. He might never flatter her tastes but that only meant that he was aware of them. He was aware of who she was and still, he felt no disinclination in being in her company.

She was no construct to him and despite his incessant teasing Blair had seldom felt uncomfortable in being herself. She was used to him and he was used to her.

Let alone the fact that they were both trained killers, that he had seen her at her worst. He had provided for moral support, even after everything that had happened with his father.

She then understood her feelings did not arise from sudden, reckless and impulsive attraction. In the case of Chuck, it had started in a blur of alcohol and vindictive pleasure. It was sex that had triggered them, the vengeful kind, and Blair seemed to have derived her love for Chuck from that heated moment in the limousine.

With Dan, these feelings had taken their time. They developed under the surface, under the layers of "he's from Brooklyn" and "Serena's guy!" that she carefully maintained throughout the years. They took her by surprise but now, she could hardly wonder at them.

It was only natural that she should feel for Dan. Anything otherwise would be blatantly foolish.

She felt like the heroine of a chick flick, or of any of the romances she loved. She was at the epiphanic moment. She now knew of what was there all along.

She did not mean to compare but she couldn't resist it. Chuck always took possession of her, his kisses barely allowing her any agency. They paralyzed her, put her in the backseat while he directed the show.

But kissing Dan was a sweet struggle. She had grasped at him, clutching his shirt, running her fingers through his silly hair. He was all hands, hot and careful at the same time, tugging at her too. They were both fighting to kiss the other, to feel the other. Their dynamic was never broken. He had known when to let her control just as much as he had known when to take the reigns.

She recalled just then the hoarse tone of his voice, the way he uttered her name, lighting her on fire. She could never have resisted the kiss after that. Her heart jumped at the remembrance of his lips, almost imploring to give him a chance and let him kiss the breath out of her lungs.

Dan Humphrey kissed her like no one had ever kissed her before.

She still felt the aftershocks and tried to ignore the throbbing hints of arousal that threatened to assail her anytime soon.

_Her palm was still flat against Dan's chest. His ragged breath matched her own. The feel of his frenzied heartbeat, the way he looked at her and the sight of his unruly hair were all making her feel so very warm. She tried holding his gaze while the question lingered in the air between them. What could they do now?_

_Were they not at a point of no return? _

_And all she wanted to do was to kiss him again and again and again. It was like tasting a neglected pleasure and discovering its true virtues for the first time. Because she had never thought that Dan could make her feel so weak and powerful all at once. _

_He raised one hand to her face and cupped her cheek. His skin was blazing and rough. His thumb reached her mouth and moved slowly across her lower lip. By then, her heart a chaos of beatings. He then brushed it imperceptibly, gently opening her mouth. She saw him swallow hard, as if in deep concentration for fear of doing the wrong thing. Little did he know how tantalizing his touch was. _

"_What do you want to do, Blair?" He answered in a hoarse whisper. _

_It was the wrong reply to present her with. She took it as an incentive to show him exactly what she wanted, which was entirely different than what she ought to do. _

_Before he moved his thumb away, she gave it a silent kiss and then glanced aside. She was ashamed to be so forward and it seemed such a childish thing to do, to kiss Dan's thumb! What if he thought it was stupid? Blair chided herself inwardly. She must have been blushing deeper than her darkest Valentino gown. _

_He didn't move his thumb right away. Her hand moved along with his chest as he sucked in a breath. Involuntarily, her eyes rose back to his face, meeting an indescribable look that sent a jolt of excitement from spine to core. So she turned her face to meet his palm with her lips, brushing it with a delicate kiss. _

"_I want you." Dan stated roughly. He was losing breath. _

_His words and the tone in which they were uttered were enough to drive her mad with pleasure. She wanted him too, wanted to touch his chest and roam his skin. She wanted him to take her to her bed and fuck her hard until dawn. She wanted to hear him say her name in that maddening tone, to collapse against his hard body and feel his arms around her, holding her there forever. _

_He pulled her against him in one movement. _

"_What do you want?" He repeated more insistently._

_The question had changed._

_Him, of course. She wanted him. How could she ever want Chuck again when Dan's only touch was enough to undo her? _

"_I…I think it's pretty evident…" Her voice sounded so tiny. "…that I want you too Humphrey." _

_Dan smiled so genuinely. It was so contagious that Blair giggled recklessly._

"_Then kiss me." He ordered gently, a hazed smile playing on his lips. _

_Blair, who was also grinning like a fool, pressed her lips against his for another kiss. He was ready for her, his arms shooting up in a motion to hold her against him. But Blair swatted them away and he obeyed, although the soft groan that escaped from his throat was telling of his dismay. _

"_I'm kissing _you_, remember?" Blair whispered against his lips. _

_So she broke away from him._

"_Sit down." She told him, leading him to the bed. He watched her with curiosity, a gleam of excitement in his dark eyes. He looked every bit ruffled._

"_Blair, what…" He began but was silenced by her finger on his lips. _

_She pushed him backwards until he fell back on the bed. She then crouched next to him, her face hovering above his. His dark hair fell on top of her bed sheets. She had never been with a guy who had hair this long. Nate, Chuck, Carter and Marcus all had the classic, conventional haircut that is associated with men of their rank. She could not fathom the thought of any of them sporting Dan's curls, let alone rock them. _

"_You're Dan." She said after a few seconds._

"_I know." His throat rippled as he replied. He sounded worried. "And you're Blair."_

"_We shouldn't be wanting each other." She continued in a short voice. "I'm pretty sure there is a law somewhere against it. Some rule of the universe."_

"_And yet, we do." Dan replied, looking up towards her with searching eyes. There were faint hints of doubt in them. _

"_Yes. We do."_

"_I thought you were supposed to kiss me." He teased, raising an eyebrow. _

_One of his hand rose shyly to touch her nose playfully and she made a move to bite it away. He laughed and she joined him. But soon enough, they were silent again._

_So Blair made good on her word and lowered her face to his. It was all so experimental, she thought. There was this new intimacy with Dan and it seemed they had kept on finding new levels to their relationship, every time surprising each other on how far they could go. _

_She was very tentative, as if this were their very first kiss. Her lips molded against his, moving slowly at first. Dan moved his head, careful not to show too much agency. Her hand wandered on his face, caressing his jaw and tangling in his hair._

_Blair pulled away to catch her breath, meeting his eyes. She could not stop. She had no desire to stop. It was nonsensical and so new to her. She felt she could spend the next year trying to kiss him in every possible manner that existed and never get tired of it._

_When she met his lips again, it was more forceful. She let her tongue part them and sucked her breath when it found his. She moaned when his tongue slowly caressed hers. _

"_You're impossible!" She chided breathlessly. "No consideration for the rules. I really don't think I want to kiss you any-…"_

_But Dan shut her up with another kiss. _

"_No rules." He grumbled. "There are no rules for us. Didn't we break every one of them already? Don't you remember what we are?"_

_It was at that moment that she remembered exactly what she was. With a gasp, she pulled away from Dan as Bart's orders came back to her mind._

"_I have to report back to my superior! And it's late!" _

_She moved away from him, the reality of the situation hitting her like icy water. Dan looked at her with understanding, even apologized for having kept her away from duty as if it were his fault. He stood up and the self-consciousness finally manifested itself. Blair saw him grab his jacket, struggle with it for a bit before deciding against wearing it._

"_Alright, I'll leave you to it." He declared awkwardly. "Mmm…so should I…you know. Call you?"_

"_No, I will. Saturday." Despite the urgency of the situation, she stopped fumbling for her coat to look at him. "I promise, Dan."_

She had not called him on Saturday, which was partly the reason why she could not sleep. She remembered the hope in his eyes as the door closed. He was probably angry.

The truth was that she could not be with him. Not in that manner. Her late night meeting with Bart Bass had indicated that she was far from done with spying on her current boyfriend. Bart deemed the information insufficient and unworthy. She was lectured coldly, as was his habit, and then sent off on her way.

He had not given her anymore detail although she was dying to know just how much Chuck was involved with the whole Cercle 19. She was beginning to despise the organization. It only brought chaos to her life and she had not yet gained anything positive from it. Blair always thought it would bring her fame and status, that she'll rise among the elite in no time and have the president's phone number on speed dial because she would have become _that_ important.

Instead she was stuck with romantic struggles and having to deceive everyone around her. Oh, and also having to put her life in danger just so she could kill worthless mobsters.

"One thing at a time…" Blair muttered to herself.

She picked up her phone haphazardly in the dark and dialed his number. It was so late at night. He would not be awake and anyways, she had failed him because it was Sunday now. Her heart beat ravenously, as if waiting to hear his voice and feast on its deep tone.

He answered.

"Hi." He didn't sound tired or worn out at all. Blair straightened herself on the bed, suddenly alert.

"Hi." She answered. Her breath was short and everything she had been thinking about him just moments ago was resurfacing. "I'm sorry. I was supposed to call you earlier…Way earlier."

"It's alright." There was no definite emotion she could pin out in his voice. It was as if he were afraid to show anything.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I don't know. I just couldn't. I was watching a movie and then another." He chuckled. "Why aren't _you _sleeping?"

They both knew it was the kiss but since he had not directly admitted to it, she wouldn't either.

"I had to read _Atonement_, remember?"

"Ah yes. Did you manage to finish it?" Dan inquired.

"Yes. It was as romantic as expected." She lied. "Cecilia and Robbie finally managed to find each other again and Briony got what she deserved. God, I don't think I have ever hated a fictional character as much as I do Briony."

She heard him chuckle again.

"Are you sure you have finished it?" Dan asked. She distinguished the faint hint of mockery.

"Okay, I haven't but I only have the postscript left and it's only a few pages…"

"Oh, but they're important too." Dan clamored. "And I wouldn't hate Briony if I were you. I understand her."

"Of course. You are a writer. You _would _understand her."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She was now cradling the phone against her cheek, her legs pulled up to her. She didn't know what to tell him because she hadn't known what she meant herself. She knew he liked to call himself a writer but she could find no parallels to make between him and Briony. She didn't know Dan enough to be able to do that and it made her slightly frustrated.

"That you are as imaginative as she is." She wagered.

"Yes, but I haven't ruined the lives of two people."

"Yet!"

They fell silent.

"Have I, though?" He said in a low voice. Blair feels chills creeping up her spine. "I know why you called me this late. It can't be because you are ready for me. It can't, I know that. You always avoid doing the unpleasant until you don't have a choice anymore."

It took her a while to reply because she was proving him right once more. She had never stopped stringing him along.

"I didn't lie. I want it too." Blair whispered. "But it's not possible. I have to stay with Chuck, you must understand. It's for a mission."

"Quite a convenient excuse." He teased lightly but she could hear the faint tone of disappointment in his voice.

"I swear! I have to be with him to do this or else, I'll never get the information needed for my superior. I'm supposed to spy on him and I can't do that very well if I'm not with him." Blair sucked in a breath. It seemed easier to break up with Chuck than to have to reject Dan again. "I owe it to him to stay faithful, at least until I'm done with the mission. It wouldn't be right or fair to either of you two…"

"Yes, I understand. I always knew there might be a chance of refusal. I was prepared."

Dan's words worried her. There seemed to be a definite tone behind them, as if he were thinking of severing all ties between him and Blair. The thought made her stomach lurch; she could never bear to go back to not speaking with him.

"I meant everything." Blair hurried to say, covering whatever Dan was uttering. It came out breathless and a bit cliché but it was the truth.

"Everything?" It was his turn to sound breathless. The hope was restored in his voice. She tried very hard not to picture his face, those intelligent eyes shining in optimism and that mouth smiling that peculiar way whenever she made him happy.

"Yes. I was not lying or pretending, believe me. I see no point in doing it with you, a Humphrey, especially when it was not obligatory in any way. No, Dan, I really do want you."

"I feel like Elizabeth Bennet when Darcy first proposed to her. You didn't have to degrade me."

"You should know by now that I mean it affectionately." She replied.

"So, you want me huh?"

"But we can't be together. We're postponing this. It'll be just the same. We'll be friends and do the things we used to do like go to dubious college parties and watch vintage German horror films. We can hug and occasionally kiss the other on the cheeks, although I would refrain from doing that because it might degenerate and I really don't want it to happen. It'll be perfectly manageable Dan. And once my mission is over, I'll break up with Chuck. Then, I see no objection to kissing you again…that is, if you agree with this?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He sounded amused.

"Well, you might want to abandon the venture and decide to date someone else. In that case, I'll understand. I can't force you to wait, it'll be unfair…"

"No, I'll wait." He cut her. "I'll wait for you Blair."

Blair felt a huge smile form on her face.

"Alright, if you insist." She said with a small laugh. "Then, goodnight Humphrey."

"Goodnight, Blair."

Blair had no idea how she would resist what she had now termed to be the "Humphrey appeal" for the next few months. She tried to think about Chuck so as to guilt herself into abandoning any lustful thought about Dan but it was ineffective. Dan seemed to be there to stay in her mind. Evidently, it was only because she wanted him to.

**Alright. I cut this one short because I had to update. I am so sorry for the delay. I do hope you guys liked this update! Please do review, it does help me write more, especially now that I am free from school at last. I know you have been waiting for too long and might not feel generous with reviews but still, do what you can ****. Also, I really don't think that Blair and Dan will be very successful in keeping their hands off each other ;-) but we'll see about that. **

**Thank you so very much to everyone who has been reading this fic. This is my first of all Dair fics and it has a special place in my heart!**


End file.
